


Worth More Than They Say

by Lilianawinchester



Series: Survivors [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Aunt Peggy Carter, Avengers Movie Night, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Big Sister Bobbi Morse, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Canon Rewrite, Child Abuse, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Everyone Has Issues, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Hurt Loki (Marvel), Multi, Natasha Romanov Joins SHIELD, Old Peggy Carter, Parent Nick Fury, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Pre-Avengers (2012), Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Red Room (Marvel), SHIELD Academy, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Slow Build, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Teen Angst, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, Undercover Missions, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, goose is a good cat, young avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 157,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilianawinchester/pseuds/Lilianawinchester
Summary: “They’re wrong you know...you’re worth more than they say - you always have been.”~~~A new age has dawned with promises of war and death on the horizon. A new generation of heroes must be called upon to fight the brewing storm that threatens life as they know it. The young avengers struggle with their identities, powers and pasts as an unknown threat looms above and inside them.Sometimes sweet lies need bitter truths. The ones out of time need those trapped within it. The weary beaten need tenacious optimism. Perfectly balanced.





	1. Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> There will be certain things used from the comics however it remains primarily MCU based and so you don't need to have read any of the comics to understand what is going on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia Romanov is sent on her first mission where she runs into some...complications...

_02/03/2009, 19:21_

Natalia Romanov was good at her job. She might only be ten but it's obvious, even at that age, to tell which of the girls in the red room are going to succeed in the field.

She‘s small and slight - at least an inch shorter than all the other girls she knew her age. Built nimbly like a dancer, a trait that had been utilised through her ballet back in Russia. Her mane of fiery red hair directly contrasts the dull blondes and browns of the other girls in the red room. It’s refuses to blend in to the background, not that that matters to her though.

She’d always prided herself in her uncanny ability to revel in the spotlight and remain utterly invisible to anyone who might be looking. Like now for example, her small figure tucked away within the ravenous circus crowd, everyone craning their heads to get a better look at the sights. Not a single person takes note of the small red headed girl in the crowd who had a gun and knife taped to the inside of her legs underneath her sweet, childlike summer dress.

Her companion, a fair haired woman with the complexion of a porcelain doll, holds her hand as they wade through the crowds. The woman must be at least thirty but her clothes and makeup seems to magically remove five years off of her features.

Tonight she was posing as Natalia's mother, a role that seemed to require the woman gripping Natalia's hand viciously as they trundle through the labyrinth of stalls and attractions. Natalia arrived at the red room too young to remember her own mother but if she was anything like this woman she was almost glad to have never had to suffer the clinging nature of a mother.

Even though the night is brisk both women chose to wear dresses anyway, the hot sweaty bodies of the crowd keeping them warm enough.

Growing up in Russia had given Natalia somewhat of an immunity to the freezing temperatures winter had to offer. They’d often been forced to train for hours on end in their nightgowns in thick snow to harden themselves against the elements. A chilled breeze was nothing compared to inches of snow.

The trip to Budapest had been a long one and the train wasn't comfortable but it did the job. Both agents had been reserved a space in the lower class sections without beds or good meals. Natalia had been forced to sleep curled up in the corner of her seat beside the older agent.

For the first time she’d slept without her handcuff chaining her to the bed, a feeling she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to. The unshackled feeling gnawed at her stomach all night, refusing her even the slightest bit of comfort she could scavenge. She knew full well she’d been given a mission to complete and so her own comfort wasn't to be considered.

People forcefully barge past her, their elbows digging into her sides as they scramble by. She pulls herself closer into herself, receding into her own body further and further with every shove. She considers moving closer to her “mother” and attempting to use her as a shield against the crowd but quickly decides against it. This woman will give her no sympathy, no kindness. She’s more likely to stab her with those pointed heels than to protect her. Besides - hiding behind the woman would be exposing her weakness, admitting it.

This is her first real mission and so she couldn’t screw it up like this. Her first chance out of this place wasnt going to be her last.

The sudden appearance of a huge, red and white striped tent in front of her jolted her out of her own thoughts. All though the entire field was decorated in bright, fancy tents, this was the show stopper. It was the tallest tent Natalia had ever seen. Stretching up to reach the stars, the metal tip of the tent blurring into the dark sky above them. Her guess would be that it had to be as tall as a three story building. Judging by the size of it, at least 500 people must be able to be seated in there for the main event.

Poster are scattered around the field advertising the main event. Swordsmen, acrobatics and other dangerous performances were depicted on the posters but by far the most advertised event was the “worlds greatest marksmen’s” performance later that night. Things like that are all talk and no pay off in Natalias opinion.

The main tent is right in the center of the field so everything else spreads out like a web around it. Thunderous laughter and chatter erupts from the depths of the tent, easily drowning out the crowd surrounding the tent, all pushing to get in. Many of the people around her have cotton candy and popcorn that they’re munching on as they wait to get into the tent.

Everyone has already brought their tickets before arriving at this point. A man is stood guard outside the tent, checking everyone’s tickets before they enter the tent.

The older woman is holding their tickets between her pale fingers. There’s nothing particularly fancy about the tickets, they’re nothing more than white paper with the name of the event printed on. Small tabs are on the edge of the ticket ready to be pulled off of the ticket. The ink on the tickets is already beginning to fade despite only being brought a few minutes ago.

Eventually they reach the ticket collector, handing over their tickets for inspection. He hardly even looks at the tickets before ripping off the tabs and throwing the stubs in the bin by his side. The tickets could easily be forgeries and they’d get through without problem (not that it would be worth all the hassle). 

Her companion pulls her closer and drags them through the tent flaps to find seats. They could tell as soon as they entered that there was no way they’d manage to get even slightly close to the center of the stage, not that it really mattered. They could get the view they needed from the higher vantage point of the back seats. The woman quickly grabs two seats on the wooden bench beside the entrance to the tent, not wanting to miss out of getting a proper seat. The people on the bench quickly shuffle down to try and make some room for the new comers. Natalia promptly squishes herself down on the bench, crossing her legs to make sure she doesn’t reveal the artillery beneath her dress. That could be embarrassing for the both of them.

Somewhere out there in the sea of people was a man who had been summoned by death. Naturally, Natalia had no idea what he had done to have them come here for him or even what his name was. All she needed to know was what he looked like, her companion was adamant on that much.

She scanned the crowd for the face she'd been familiarising herself with all the way from Russia to Budapest. He was a weathered looking man with a dark tan and skin touched every so slightly by agreed wrinkles. In fact he wasn't hard to find. He was seated in full view of everyone in the tent. He must have paid VIP tickets or something since he had the best seats in the house. The spotlight shining down onto the stage caught him as well, lighting him up like a Christmas tree.

It's hard to tell whether the man is formal or not since his attire is contradictory. Although he is wearing a suit, it looks worn and dusty from long days travelling. Judging by the wrinkles in the fabric it has been ironed in months. His hair is much the same, neatly gelled back and styled, yet managing to look like he'd just come out of a war with the wind and the elements. She can't quite put a finger on how he wants to appear.

Natalia locks her eyes on the strange foreign man and tries to drown out the chaos of the circus so around her. While she was working she couldn't afford to be distracted by something as childish as the circus or she'd never be allowed out of the red room again. Even though the woman’s eyes are clearly fixed on the stage, she can’t shake the feeling that she is being watched and assessed based on her reactions to her surroundings. Despite her clear aptitude for her line of work, no one trusted her - she is after all only 10. This was as much an assessment as a mission. This is where her true worth is revealed. No one wants to buy up a faulty product who can’t carry the job out correctly.

Everyone in the room suddenly goes quiet, the anticipation building. Natalia furrows her eyebrows and leans in, biting the inside of her cheeks. What’s supposed to be happening? Was she supposed to do something?

Just when she thinks they’ve both been caught and are about to be arrested, a man in a ridiculous, sparkly red suit steps out from behind the curtains onto the center stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls! Welcome to the Carson Carnival of Travelling Wonders!” The man throws his arms up the the air, drawing screeches from the audience. Natalia grins and copies all the other people around her, screeching and smiling widely. Her cheeks ache and her hands burn from clapping but she keeps doing it until everyone else quietens down to let the show begin.

"We have many wonders here to display to you lovely folk this fine evening! Everything from sword throwing to fire dancing to the main event, our very own world renowned archer: The Hawkeye!" With that another huge wave of screaming lets up again. She rolls her eyes inwardly but joins in none the less.

"Without further ado, let us begin!" The ringmaster calls out, signalling the band to begin playing, loud, brash music that fights with the cries of the audience for dominance.

Acts begin trickling out from behind the curtain to perform on the stage one at a time. At first Natalia tries to pay attention and look engaged in the steady stream of people and performers doing their tricks and sketches but before long its clear that this is nothing out of the ordinary or particularly intriguing. It seems to have all the hallmarks of a good circus but nothing that should draw out crowds this size in rural Budapest.

Deciding to almost completely ignore the acts on stage, Natalia turns her gaze on the weathered man in the front row. Her target. He seems fairly engaged in the performances but it is clear from one look these are acts he has seen a million times before. She can only assume that's how her Mistresses knew he would be here tonight.

At first glance he appears to be observing the acts, but it soon becomes clear that his entranced smile is not for the acts, but rather the audience. His eyes size up the crowd, greedily scanning and trying to work out how much money these people translate to. Natalia wonders what he sees as he rakes his eyes over the surroundings. Does he see people around him or nothing more that green papers and golden coins?

A woman beside the man leans over, whispering something into his ear that suddenly causes him to perk up. The woman wraps one of her gloved arms around his and leans into his seductively. It’s nothing she hasn't seen a million times before back at the academy. The fancy clothes and golden jewellery can’t hide the ravenous, all consuming look in her eyes. She's no better than the girls that come out of the academy. One vulture is no different to the other.

The ringmaster steps back out onto the stage as the knife thrower leave the stage with a bow. The lights around them all dim until the only light in the entire room is a single candle held by the ring master in the center of the stage. The sudden darkness sets Natalia's heart on edge. She subtly reaches her fingers out to stroke the holster of the gun taped onto her thigh. She’s hoping she wont have to use this at any point but there's nothing wrong with being prepared for the worst.

"You've all been waiting patiently all evening for this moment. This is what the evening has been leading up to. Prepare to be amazed by the worlds greatest marksmen!" As he finishes his sentence the candle is blown out as an arrow whistles past it, the strength of the breeze forcing the room into complete darkness. The sound of the arrow finding its mark in the darkness signals the resurgence of the lights. Once the darkness has been lifted you can see a boy standing against a target, an arrow buried in the bulls-eye of the target, centimeters away from the top of his head. Opposite him stands the marksmen who sent the arrow there, his bow still drawn and the string still quivering.

The audience bursts into an applause and even Natasha cant help but clap. She knows dozens of girls back at the red room who would kill everyone in this place for marksmanship like that. The name Hawkeye makes more sense after seeing his shot in the dark.

He can’t be older than 13, although it’s hard to tell with the distance. He’s still holding the build and stage presence of a boy yet to complete puberty. His sharp blue eyes catch Natalia's, even at this great distance. The bow in his hand looks massive beside him, she’s surprised he can even hold it properly, let alone fire it with any accuracy. Talent like his at his age is desirable for a place like the red room, let alone some run of the mill circus. Suddenly it makes sense why he would be held in such high regard here.

The boy bows humbly, smiling like a fool in his fancy get up. Someone somewhere decided purple was his colour and has outfitted him in a tight, purple suit and matching mask, both just as outlandish as each other. The mask stretches out into ridiculous points making him look more like a cartoonish purple devil than a world renowned marksman. A large, white H has been stitched onto the mask, a tribute to his name: Hawkeye. The boy doesn't seem to have any qualms with the outfit though as he drinks in the applause. Natasha might be willing to do a lot of things but she cant imagine herself ever willing dressing up and prancing on the stage in an outfit like that.

Once the clapping has died down the boy continues with his act, demonstrating his ridiculous ability with the bow and arrow, shooting a variety of different arrows from a variety of different positions into a variety of different targets. Natalia has mostly drowned the act out though, her keen eyes picking up on the sudden movement of the target from the other side of the crowd. He seems to have stood up and begun to move, the woman from before still latched to his arm like a baby monkey. He shuffles around the the crowd, trying to find a route through the people to make his way back stage.

The Ringmaster at the edge of the stage keeps his own eyes fused on the target as well, clearly agitated by the mans sudden movement through the crowd. He quickly signals to Hawkeye with a short sharp hand movement. Even though the young boy is upside down and aiming at a spinning ribbon dancer he seems to pick up on the signal and quickly fires his shot. By design, it narrowly misses the dancer, who keeps spinning and dancing as if she had no clue she was being shot at. Once the dancer has finished her routine, the boy jumps down and bows again before leaving the stage to hand the show back over to his ringmaster.

"...and that's all for tonight then guys, be sure to drop back in tomorrow for half price!" The ringmaster bellows loudly over the loud chatter of the audience gathered like vultures or coyote's at the edge of the stage.

"Tickets are only half price for a second day return!" The ring master called out again, coaxing the audience into getting out of tent and into the rest of the circus.

As the crowd begins to move and jostle, the weathered looking man is set even further back from his goal as he tries to push his way through the crowd. For every step he takes forward he is pushed back by two steps with the flow of the crowd. Eventually people begin to move out of his way, allowing home you make progress through the stands. He quickly squeezes through to the to the flap which leads to the backstage area of the circus right next to the stage. Both him and the woman disappear, laughing and leaning into one another as they walk by.

Fearing wont be able to find him behind the stage, Natalia stands up and begins to move but the woman grabs her wrist roughly. Her wrist cries out in protest, the sensetive skin catching on the woman’s sharp, filed nails. She bites her lip and lowers her head, not daring to meet the woman’s eyes. No one around them seems to notice the motion thankfully, allowing to take her seat next to the woman again without much fuss.

"There's no need to rush. We wont get far in this crowd." The woman whispers quietly in her ear. Her accent would indicate that she is Russian, much like Natalia, although she can’t be certain if she’s just using that accent to pass as her mother.

The womans eyes are focused on the Ringmaster, his own eyes fixed with hers. They seem to exchange a knowing look between one another before both look away and return to what they were doing. Natalia observes the interaction carefully. She supposes now she knows who hired them.

The ringmasters leaves first, pulling his eyes away from the woman’s to head back stage. His coat sweeps gracefully behind him as he flees the stage, brushing up the dust on the ground to spiral around him like a low budget smoke machine.

The crowd slowly dies away leaving only a few people behind in the stands. The woman stands up first, carefully tugging Natalia up with her and leading her down to the backstage entrance while the remaining viewers leave through the opposite exit.

As expected the man is long gone by the time they arrive but the other woman doesn't seem put out by that knowledge in the slightest. She quickly guides Natalia through the maze of rooms behind the circus. She knew the tent was huge but the size of the back stage is ridiculous. For a travelling circus they sure seem to have a lot of belongings and set up to cart around. They mus have a whole fleet of trucks to lug it all around.

Despite the woman's obvious confidence in her knowledge of the area, they seem to be wandering around aimlessly for a long time. There is no clear path they're taking and the woman appears to be checking every room they pass.

Natalia stops abruptly and takes a deep breath in and listens carefully to her surroundings. Somewhere in the distance is a woman singing a Russian lullaby. Natalia can't tell which one from this distance but the sound of Russian in this strange land is reassuring. The red room might not be nice but it's home - the only one she knows.

Suddenly the loud chuckling of a man reverberates around the tent. Natalia pulls herself away from the comforting lullaby and begins following the sound of the chuckles.

”That must be them.” She whispers to the woman, pointing in he direction of the chuckling. There’s a short, sharp nod of acknowledgement before the pair of them head off in search of the sound. It leads to a closed off area of the back of the tent where there's a single room with the entrance flap propped open slightly. She cant decide whether that is luck or design or a bit of both. 

The woman steps away from the ajar entrance, allowing Natalia to take her place. Natalia sees her turn to keep an eye on the corridor beyond. Natalia swoops in and peeks around the entrance ever so slightly to get a look into the room.

A lantern has been strung up from the ceiling to resemble a light you'd get in a house. However a mixture of the wind and the weak structure of the tent means that the light swings from side to side rhythmically, sending the light flinging in random directions. Puddles of liquid on the rickety table in the middle of the room catch the light as it swings by, sending odd flashes of light into Natalia's eye as she watches from the shadows.

There are two men sat at the table, one facing Natalia and the other facing away. She recognises the bright red coat of the man facing her to be the ringmaster. Up close he looks much more downtrodden and worn than he did up on the stage. Although she can only see the back of the other man she can tell it is her target from the greased back hair and weather worn clothes that are visible.

Her target has managed to shed himself of the clingy woman and has swapped her for bottles of whiskey. Both men have glasses full of the stuff laid out on the table in celebration. Judging by the packed out circus they must've had a good evening. If all the performances that day were as successful they must be rich men.

"Here's to many more prosperous years to come!" The target chuckles, his ears flushed red from large amounts of alcohol. He lets out something halfway between a hiccup and a cough as he downs his glass of whiskey and violently sets it down on the table in front of him. The sharp, hard motion knocks the other glasses on the table, causing them to wobble and splash some of their contents on the table sloppily. It doesn't matter how rich they are, they don't have to be wasting whiskey like that - it looks fairly expensive.

"Here here." The ring master taps his glass against the targets and smiles. Unlike the target, the ringmaster's voice is less wholesome and jovial and is instead filled with maliciousness. Something about his smile screams wrong - even to a young assassin.

"Soon we'll be richer than we ever believed - especially with that Clint kid. He's our lucky rabbits foot. This is the most packed out the circus has ever been and he's the reason!" The target chuckles again and leans back in his chair, letting bis arm go lax. His guard is down and he is even more unsuspecting than he was earlier today during the performance. It's all Natalia can do to not shoot him right there to prove how mistaken he was in letting his guard down

"Where did you even find the kid anyway? Talent like that isn't easy to find." The target hiccups and slurs his words. The whiskey in his glass sloshes from side to side and his arm wobbles freely.

"He found us. Him and the other boy, his brother, came here in search of work. They ran away from foster care." The Ringmaster sets down his glass, untouched. Unlike the target, the glasses surrounding him are full, only one empty glass in sight. His face is the stark opposite of the other mans, pale and taut to the targets red faced grin.

"Are you feeling okay, Jacques? You have't touched your drink." The target leans forward, inspecting his friend. He sets the now empty glass onto table beside the others. The ringmaster smiles forcefully, attempting to soothe his now on edge friends. He shifts in his seat, squirming on the hard surface.

Before he can realise something is truly wrong, a knife buries itself in the back of his head, leaving an ugly mark on his forehead. The tip of the knife is just about visible in the middle of his head. As he slams down onto the table there's a dull thud as the knife buries itself in the wood, pinning his head onto the table. Blood begins pooling on the surface, thick blood stretching out and wrapping around the glasses. There's surprisingly little considering the severity of the wound.

The ringmaster doesn't even stand up. Instead he picks up his glass of whiskey and finally takes a drink from it. He leans back and sighs deeply, smiling properly. There's a short sharp laugh as the man looks around the room, searching for the assassin who buried the knife there.

Once the glass is empty he sets it down on the table and slowly gets up to inspect the body. He pushes on the head of his drinking buddy, watching more blood seep free and spill onto the table surface. Cleaning that up isn't going to be much fun. She doesn't envy whoever gets roped into that job.

As soon as he is sure the job is done, he takes a step towards the entrance to the room. His eyes meet single eye of the assassin that is visible around the edge of the entrance. Even now, she keeps mostly out of sight. Only one eye is visible, a fraction of the way up the entrance, giving away her lower than average height. 

"You're a bit young aren't you?" The ringmaster raises his guard again, unsure of how to react to the young assassin, "Where's the woman from earlier?" He looks around feverishly, taking a few steps closer to Natalia. He's torn between curiosity and fear, his steps hesitant and small.

Natalia straightens up and holds her head up high as she steps out into the room. Her face stays the mask of calm confidence as she draws closer to the Ringmaster, the body and the table. With every step she takes closer to him, he moves back. While her steps are confident and clear, his are fast and unsteady. In his hurry, he trips over his own feet, stumbling backwards past the table.

His hand brushes against his friends blood on the table. His face is torn between horror at the blood coating his hand, and the need to move away from Natalia. She almost chuckles at the sight on it but what fun would that be? Keeping the ruse going would be much more satisfying than feeding is own embarrassment at the situation.

At last minute she turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on the body ahead of her. She grabs the handle of the knife with one hand and uses the other to steady the mans head as she tugs the knife out. It's stuck deeper into his head than she thought, refusing to give way as she tugs. Her muscles strain against the force but she keeps pulling, too committed now to back out. After a lot of strain it pulls free, sending her off balance slightly due to the momentum.

With the knife free, the wound is now completely open to the element, emptying out huge amounts of blood on the table.

She wipes her hands on the targets shirt, attempting to scrub off the thick layer of blood clinging to her skin. The first thing she learnt about blood is how hard it is to get off. Its a substance that not only stains peoples clothes but also dyes your skin. Even now, only seconds after her hand touched the blood, the skin comes away stained pink and unnatural. 

"It has been done." She nods to him, "you'll want to get out of here or you could be charged for the murder." She casually lifts up her dress and sticks the knife back in the gun holster that it was in before. The holster protests against the weapon being forced back in but at least the holster should keep the blood from the knife dripping down her leg.

She stares him down for a few seconds, refusing to back down from the weedy man. He doesn't seem to be taking any of her advice as he remains standing in room. She shakes her head and turns her back on him to leave the room. Sooner or later someone is going to come by and find the body, she cant afford to be anywhere near here when that happens. 

However outside the room there is nothing but an empty corridor, her companion apparently long gone. She furrows her brow and looks around proceeding down the corridor cautiously. Just as before though, there is no sign the woman was ever here. Well isn't that just great. Alone again. What is she supposed to do now?

Natalia stops again, closing her eyes to focus for any sound around her. Everything within the main tent is quiet. The only sounds are coming from the attractions and people outside. Her frustration builds with every passing second. She digs her nails into her palms and sighs deeply. Slowly she opens her eyes ready to start moving again but is greeted with an unwelcome sight. 

At the end of the corridor is a boy, dressed in baggy, second hand clothes. She wouldn't recognise him at all if it wasn't for the tall bow at his side and the purple costume folded up and held tightly in one hand. He must be the archer from the performance. The Hawkeye. He looks much younger and smaller off of the stage and away from the bright lights. In fact he must be only a few months older than her. His bright blue eyes are sharp and cold against his tanned freckled skin and dirty blonde hair.

"Well, well, well. What are you doing back here?" He asks, taking a step towards her and lowering his hands to his sides. 

Natalia quickly hides her bloody hands by grabbing the hem of her dress, rubbing the material feverishly and biting her bottom lip. Tears well up in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Her eyes stick to the ground, watching his shoes draw closer. She lets out a choked cry and lets her body shake. Her body curls up, making herself look smaller and younger than normal. Making her look more approachable.

"This is a restricted area you know. You're going to get lost back here." The boy steps closer and lowers his bow and suit on the ground beside him.

Her hand reaches up her leg casually, trying to discreetly reach the handle of the knife for some kind of protection. Just as her hand strokes the edge of the handle she's stopped as his hand grips her wrist, pulling it away from the knife. Her eyes widen in shock at the sudden movement. She hadn't realised he was even close enough to intercept her.

Before he can do anything else she twists her arm and grabs his forearm with the hand he's gripping onto. She pulls him closer and slams her head into his violently. He stumbles back, his head ringing loudly and painfully. She brings her leg up to kick him in a particularly sensitive area. His hand catches her leg just in time, keeping the blow from landing. She keeps her balance though, pushing off the ground with her free leg and hitting him around the head quickly before flipping around and landing on too feet. He brings his hand up to covering the fast forming bruise on his head. Not a great day for his head. 

Both of them spring apart, crouched low waiting for the other to make the next move. However it ends up being a scream that interrupts the tension. The sound shatters the bubble they have created around themselves, allowing both parties to turn and stop at the sound. It sound high pitched, like a woman's scream and is filled with pure terror.

No surprise registers in the boy's face. He must've already found the body. That would explain how he saw through her so quickly.

Footsteps rally at the sound as people rush to the woman's aid. There's the sound of guns cocking which turns Natalia's blood to ice. She breathes in deeply, regaining her calm composure. She'll just have to deal with this guy and begin her next level of improvisation.

The boy makes the first move, bending down to snatch up his bow and costume from the floor where he left them. With his free hand he grabs her arm and drags her across the corridor and into a room she hadn't even noticed was there.

It's completely dark inside making it next to impossible to see anything until her eyes adjust the the darkness. Even without being able to see she can tell it's a much smaller room than the Ringmasters room, around the size she would've predicted the rooms to be.

The boy presses a hand against her mouth and holds her back to stop her from leaving. His hand is cold and rough. The skin has been broken down into hard tough skin from callouses and blisters.

Footsteps echo down the hallway they were just in as people rush past as they search for the cause of the scream. Once the people have passed the boy lets go of her mouth and flicks on a light on the table beside them.

With the sudden addition of light, the space somehow becomes much smaller than it was before. There's hardly any space to stand, most of the space being take up by a large chest which doubles as a makeshift bed judging by the heaps of blankets covering the hard wooden surface. The table beside them takes up much of the remaining space, the table looking even more rickety and broken than the Ringmasters. A box of arrows have been left on the table, resources for his performance no doubt.

He sets his bow and costume on the table without even turning to look at Natalia. She reaches for her knife while is back is turned but find nothing but the gun in the holster alone. She frowns and looks up to the see the boy holding her knife casually with the tips on his fingers, his back stilled turned on her. She tries to dart forward to grab it but he swiftly moves it out of her reach.

For a second she considers fighting him for it. He might have some talent in a fight but she still out ranks him by years when it comes to hand to hand techniques. However the room is cramped and any kind of fight in here would only cause unnecessary noise that could draw other peoples attention. Instead she reaches for the gun in the holster. It might be loud and messy but at least its quick. She should be able to dart out of this place before she's discovered if she does end up needing to use it.

"I think I'm going to keep a hold of this." The boy says as he turns around, casually playing with the knife without looking up.

As soon as he's turned around he comes face to face with the gun. He stops still, his cocky smile leaving his face. He doesn't jerk away or try to escape, his only reaction is the slight, questioning raise of his eye brow as his eyes meet hers.

"Give me the knife back, boy."

"Wow, you really want that knife back. And it's Clint by the way." He holds his hand out towards her, a gesture of friendship - or perhaps just a ploy to get her to lower her guard.

"This doesn't have to get messy." She holds out her hand towards him, waiting expectantly. He sighs and hands her the knife, or bothering to raise his hands or plead for mercy. She grabs the knife and sticks both the knife and the gun back in the holster on her leg. 

"I saw what you did to that man. Back in the room." He says, nodding to the direction of the room she had been fleeing from.

"And I saw you prancing around on the stage. What's your point?"

"You're going to need an escape route. I watched that other lady leave. I saw her walking past me so I followed her and saw what you did to the man. She was your way out I'm assuming."

"Why would you help me?" She frowns and clenches her fist. Adrenaline courses through her, preparing for a fight. 

"Because you don't seem like a bad person. You don't have those eyes. Besides, you'll manage to get away anyway so I'd rather keep my face in one piece." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"You have terrible judge of character."

"It's almost like you don't want help." When she doesn't respond he sighs and takes a step towards the makeshift bed. He carefully props open a cleverly concealed flap leading to the outside of the tent. A hidden escape route. She raises her eyebrows at the little route, "It's like a prison here, you need to have a hidden escape route just to get some freedom."

Natalia walks over to the flap, keeping her guard raised as she passes Clint. He steps away from her to give her some space as she steps past him and walks through to the flap. She doesn't even acknowledge or thank him as she walks past. Blanking him out as if he didn't exist. 

It's gotten even colder since she last was out in the elements. A cold wind picking up and wrapping around her. She holds back a shiver as she steps out of the surprisingly warm tent into the night. She turns back to see Clint turning away from the entrance, heading back inside. Before he's completely gone she stops and calls out.

"Natalie. My name is Natalie Rushman."


	2. Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalias first mission since her graduation ends in a chance reunion with an old acquaintance

_11/07/2015, 08:41_

"Natalia? Natalia, how are you doing?" The words sound faded and distant, like something from another person's life.

"Its time to wake up now. You're needed." The blackness around her begins to crumb as light spills in through her half-asleep eyes. Her eye lids feel weighted. Just opening her eyes is a chore.

The voice from before bends over and unshackles her hand from the bed post letting the shackle fall to the side of the bed. They clatter loudly making her instinctively cringe away from the noise. She presses a freezing, numb hand against her ringing head in the hopes of finding some relief. Unfortunately that does nothing for her headache except adding being cold to her list of problems.

The sun is low in the sky and the red rays are streaming through the cracked windows of the sleeping quarters. Dust and filth on the window tint the light brown and dull the colours. The light catches the lone dust particles drifting gently through the air. There's something almost magical about their dance as they spin around each other.

Somehow everything looks different to normal. Nothing has changed in all the years that she's been here. There's still the same rusty metal bed frames. The same muddy, filthy floor. The same broken windows and desolate landscape beyond, yet it feels like a different place now. Life here feels much more permanent. 

Slowly and tentatively, she sits up putting her weight onto her arms. Blood rushes to her head making her vision waver and fill with black spots. Her arms protest against the weight, nearly buckling under the pressure. The sharp pain is a welcome relief from the deep ache in her abdomen. The empty hole that threatens to consume her. 

Bandages are visible through the tight vest she is wearing, edges of the material peeking out from the bottom. They're cleaner than she expected - not a speck of blood visible against the white material. The material itches her skin roughly, begging for the attention she is unwilling to give it. 

One of mistresses is crouched next to her bed. Her features are hardened, angry almost. There is no pity on her face, why should there be? If she can't cope with an wound like this the kinder option would be a bullet in the head right now.

"Where am I needed?" She brings up her guard and tries to make her voice steady and strong. Weakness means death in the red room, it's a lesson she was taught young. Now, more than ever, she can't afford to show weakness. That's exactly what they're expecting.

"The Office. She has a mission for you." The mistress throws a stack of clothes at Natalia. She quickly darts forward, moving her weight off of her arms to catch the clothes. They feel heavier than they should be, her arms still numb and fragile. Her arms unresponsiveness almost causes her to drop them but she manages to keep a hold of them at that last second.

Before Natalia can reply the mistress is gone out of the room to deal with the other girls. As soon as the mistress has left the room Natalia takes her vest off and begins feverishly pulling at the bandages. The come away easily, the bindings falling away in her hands.

Hidden underneath is at the large, puffy red scar running across her abdomen. A sinister smile. It runs from one side of her abdomen to the other, splitting her in half. The wound has been neatly stitches, the surgical thread resembling crimson beads on the surface of her skin.

In her time at the red room she's gained more scars than she cares to count and more than she wants to. Normally they're messy and rough around the edges, they're all from battle and she wears them proudly. However this one is clean and professional. She can't help but want to hide it away from view. To cover it up. There's no pride in the mark. Nothing but shame.

Her breath hitches as she runs her finger along the scar. A small bead of blood swells up through the stitches when she presses her finger down on the wound.

The sight of blood seems to snap Natalia out of her stupor. She grabs the shirt the Mistress gave her and pulls it over the wound, pressing the rough material against the scar hesitantly.

She swings her leg out of the bed and sits down on the side of the bed quietly. She carefully tugs off her leggings and swaps them for a new pair, comforted by the feeling of the clean clothes. 

She pushes all her weight onto her legs quickly. She sways slightly on her feet, bracing herself in a fighting stance. Pain ripples across her but she beats it down and keeps moving. Despite her legs attempts to buckle she keeps moving out of the room and down the hall to The Office.

She wraps her fingers around the door knob and uses it to steady herself. She takes a deep breath and opens the door, pulling herself up straight and standing steadily on her feet.

The Head Mistress is sat in her chair in behind the desk, surrounded by papers. They're stacked up carefully around her, forming a cage or a wall between her and Natalia.

At a glance it looks like a normal head mistresses office, at least until you notice the guns resting peacefully at the side of the desk and the knives taped to the underside of the desk. If you looked at the papers on the desk you would see exactly what kind of academy this was.

"Natalia, congratulations on graduating." She says without looking up from her papers. Her pen moves rhythmically against the paper as she writes.

Natalia's hands instantly go to her abdomen where the scar hides underneath her t-shirt. The procedure had been painful and as usual she hadn't been allowed any pain medications. She'd felt the entire thing, at least until she passed out. She hadn't been proud of that either. She'd hoped she would last longer than she did. Luckily she'd been strapped down to the table - not that they did that for her sake. The couldn't afford her lashing out during the procedure and attempting to leave before they completed it.

"What is the mission?" She stands up straighter as ignore the aching of her womb. She forces her hands away from her abdomen and keeps them glued to her sides. A feeling of vulnerability spreads through her as she keeps her hands so far from the center of her body.

The Mistress slides a file across the desk towards her, still refusing to look at Natalia. Natalia takes a few steps forward to the edge of the desk so she can reach the file and picks it up delicately in one hand. The other hand curls into a fist which she hides behind hr back. The Mistress smirks, as if she cans see Natalia's fist despite not even looking up.

With her unclenched hand she flicks open the file and scans through it. Inside the file are several lists of encoded times, dates and locations set out the same way as all the other mission reports.

A small photo has been paper clipped to the top of the file. It looks professionally taken, a passport photo or something of a similar variety. There is a young man - no older than 18, in the photo. His hair is neatly styled and he is clearly much more mature than his years. Something about the way he is sat screams confidence and pride.

"Is that all you wanted to say, mistress?" Natalia takes the photo out of the file and scrutinises it. None of the files are allowed to leave the office so this is the only opportunity she gets to see her target.

"The plane leaves in the morning - I expect you won't be coming back here for a while if the KGB continues to show interest in you." She sets down her pen slowly, drawing out every movement. Finally looks up from her papers and stares Natalia directly in the eyes. A shiver runs up her spine, clawing at her skin. Her heart races, chasing away any thoughts of her abdomen or the file in her hand.

"Don't mess this up. The KGB don't believe in second chances, girl." She looks back down at her paper and takes up the pen, Natalia's existence completely forgotten.

  
~~~

  
_15/07/15, 19:39_

Patience is easier said than done. Of all the skills they teach in the red room patience is by far the hardest to master and the most important.

Natalia lays in the mud at the side of the cliff side road. Her red hair is stuck to her face, a mixture of mud and rain coating her red hair and blending her into the dark forest background. A sniper rifle is tucked under her armpit, ready to be let loose when the targets car comes into sight. Natalia bends down and tests her she against the scope, peering through the red tinted lens.

Thick clusters of trees stretch out in every direction as far as the eye can see. They all fall away as they reach a huge cliff face that stretches down into the sea below.

Along the edge of the cliff face runs a dirt road that swerves between the trees up the hill into the darkness. With all the rain the usually dry, dusty road has become slippery and waterlogged. The leaves offer little protection from the heavy rain.

Trees have grown so close to each other that their leaves form a thick, impenetrable curtain over the forest. The trees stretch up into the sky, their branches shaking violently with the wind. Pairing the natural darkness of the forest with the heavy rain forms an almost completely dark night.

After scoping out the area earlier Natalia noticed the road leads to a small country farm, tucked away at the top of the hill near the cliff edge. The road itself is already crumbling and is ready to dive into the waves. It would be easy to make the hit look like an accident - no one would even bother investigating the cause of death. Driving along the road is already a death trap. Not to mention there's not a single building around for miles except the farmhouse, so there is little chance of anyone seeing anything.

A car drives into the sight of the snipe. All the rain makes it impossible to hear the sound of it driving, leaving only her restricted vision to make the hit. Even with her limited vision it is clear this is the car noted in the file. It has the same dented side and long scratch running down the edge. even though she cant make out the color there's not a doubt in her mind. 

Natalia quickly lines up the shot, closing one eye and breathing in deeply. She holds her breath, trying to calm her racing breath and the car moves into place. Her finger squeezes the trigger as she breathes out, releasing a bullet into the front wheel of the car.

It begins skidding over the muddy road, tires scrambling for purchase but finding nothing but mud and rain beneath it. For a few seconds it looks like it's going to skid over the edge of the cliff into the sea below, but instead it stops, almost half way off the cliff, clinging to the edge for dear life. Everything seems to hold its breath as the car wobbles unstably as it settles against its new found purchase.

Natalia sighs, why couldn't she have made the death neater? It was so close to being perfect. Of course this wouldn't be so easy.

She stands up and marches over to the car, trading her sniper for a small hand gun, perfectly sculpted to her hand. She raises the gun up to her eyes and aims it at the man in the front passenger seat. In the darkness it's near impossible to see his features properly - everything remains a shadowy blur.

She's just about to take the shot when a small voice from the back of the car disturbs the perfect silence.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?" The voice is barely louder than a whisper and sounds strained. Even the rain seems to have silence to hold the steady quiet that's looming over the scene.

In that moment the rain clouds move out of the way of the moon and illuminate the car. At once it becomes clear the man in the front seat isn't he target, he's much older. He looks like a farmer, probably the owner of the farmhouse at the top of the road. His face is presses against the steering wheel, blood dripping down his face onto the dashboard.

The man isn't alone in the car, woman is next to him in the front seat. She's are slumped over in her chair like the man, blood running freely from unseen wound. From the angle she's at she can't see whoever spoke.

"MOMMY! It hurts! What's happening?!" The voice rings out again. It sounds like a young boy, his voice strained and thick with terror. This time much louder and more piercing. His cries ripple out across the empty landscape.

They send a shudder down her spine, different to the way the Head Mistresses did. This time instead of fear causing her stomach to overturn its horror. Horror at the pain streaking through the voice. A child. Her womb aches again, pulling her towards the voice ahead. 

"Be quiet Victor!" A new voice calls out in the dark. The new voice is even quieter and older, deep and hushed. Most people would be unable to pick up the voice it is so quiet but Natalia isn't most people. Whoever it is seems to have sensed or seen Natalia. He's on edge, prepared.

She readjusts the gun to point at the back window, breathing in quietly and slowly tiptoeing over to the back end of the car. The mud squelches underfoot, breaking the delicate silence. A rattling breath is drawn inside the hearing her footsteps. As she moves closer she can see inside the back of the car, the moonlight still illuminating everything.

Three children are strapped into the back of the car, trapped in their seats by the seat belts - the very things their to protect them. A girl is nearest to Natalia. She looks like she's around fifteen years old, almost Natalia's age. She doesn't seem to be badly injured like her parents but she looks sickly and frail. She's limp in her chair and her breathing is erratic and random. Her fists are clutching the seat belt, trying to pull it off of her frantically. Her nails scratch the material as her breath hitches violently.

Next to her, in the middle, is the target. He looks almost completely untouched by the accident, his suit is almost perfectly intact, only dust and small flecks of blood give away the fact he is in a car crash and not at a formal presentation.

His eyes meet Natalia's, refusing to back down. Despite the situation, he seems to be completely calm and focused entirely on Natalia. Every muscle is tensed and prepared but the look in his eye isn't jittery or nervous, he almost seems curious. His body is tilted slightly, almost completely blocking Natalia's view of the third child.

The third, youngest, child is crying inconsolably. His tears are completely silent and mingle with the blood on his face. The mix of the two make it look like his tears are made of blood, slowly, tediously dripping down his face. He's a complete wreck unlike his brother, his body convulsing with every cry. His arm appears to be twisted and broken and he cradles it close to his chest protectively. He peeks around his older brother to look at Natalia.

As his eyes meet Natalia's he stops crying and presses himself closer to his brother, his unbroken arm wrapping around his brothers.

"What do you want?" The targets voice bellows out, surprisingly calmly.

Natalia advances onward, keeping the gun aimed at the target the entire time.

The small boy burying himself in the target looks like he wants to say something but instead just hides his face in his brothers suit jacket. He has clearly taken his brothers advice on board.

The target begins to move, reaching for something hidden by the door. Not trusting the boy, Natalia pulls the trigger. In that second fear seems to suddenly catch up with the boy, Natalia can all but see his breathing stop.

As the bullet smashes the glass of the window the boy raises his hands without thinking. There is a orange sheen surrounding his hands, Natalia almost believed it is a trick of the light until it grows ever so slightly and swallows the bullet before it can hit the target.

Both herself and the target look at one another, completely perplexed by the events. He lets out the breath he was holding, a cloud of air finally breaking his lips.

Without thinking it through, she pulls the trigger again - her heart beating faster than it should be. Just as she pulls the trigger a bullet buries itself in her shoulder and her aim skews. Whatever freak event that happened with the first bullet has faded away, no orange sheen appearing this time. The bullet carries on its trajectory and misses the target, instead hitting the boy hidden behind the target. Natalia whirls around in search of whoever just shot her but there is nothing in the dark except a few orange sparks. 

"VICTOR!" The target shouts out and presses his hands against the bullet wound. Blood blossoms across the young boys side and seeps through the targets fingers as he attempts to keep pressure on the wound, "Hey, it's okay little guy. I'm gonna fix you up good as new."

"Don't lie to me. I know you can't fix it." The young boy whispers. His words are barely loud enough to hear over his cries.

"I'm going to be a doctor, of course I can fix it!" The target says with a hint of indignation.

"Will you fix up everyone else to?" The little boy asks through gritted teeth.

"Of course, that's a doctors job! We fix people." The young boy's eyes begin to close as he tries to hold onto consciousness.

Natalia begins to creep closer to the car, staying on guard for the mystery shooter from before. Above all else she must complete her mission, even if it means taking another bullet - she can handle that. This is her only duty. She has no place in this world without it.

At once the target spins around and stares directly at Natalia, turning away from his ailing brother. The movement disturbs the cars precarious balance and it suddenly begins to roll forward. The target instantly forgets about his brother and releases the pressure on the wound. He's tries to open the backdoor and get himself and his siblings out of the car but the seat belts are still fastened and before anything can be done the car has dived off of the cliff and into the icy depths.

  
~~~

_16/07/15, 01:32_

Natalia pulls her jacket tighter around herself as she enters the hospital. Her ripped up shirt is tied tightly around her shoulder in an attempt to stop the blood from staining through her jacket.

She pulls her jacket closer around her, trying to cover herself up as much as possible. She's wearing her spandex jumpsuit underneath her jacket and it's not exactly inconspicuous.

No one pays any attention to Natalia as she walks down the hall and slips into an empty storage cupboard. As soon as the door has closed she relaxes against the door. She flicks on the light and slowly takes her jacket off.

With every movement blood spills out of the wound and drips onto the floor below her. She stops her movements and slows down trying to prevent as much agitation of the wound as possible. Once her jacket is on the floor she starts to unwind the bind made of her bloody shirt.

She closes her eyes and digs her fingers into the wound, fishing around for the bullet. Blood oozes out of the wound and makes it even harder to get a hold of the bullet. Eventually her finger manages to locate the bullet but her fingers fumble with it, struggling to keep in in her fingers. She finally gets a hold of it with her finger nails and carefully tugs it out. She shoves the bullet into her pocket, deciding to look at it better later.

She takes a few seconds to regain her composure, breathing in and out deeply. Once she feels slightly more collected she begins rummaging through the boxes for a needle and thread. Her shoulder burns with every movement. She quickly finds a small packet with the needle and thread and picks it up with her bloody fingers. Some of her blood drips onto the other packets but she's to numb to be bothered about any of that right now. 

She attempts to thread the thread through the needle through the small gap but with her hand refuses to stop shaking. Every time it gets close her hand jerks away knocking it off course. She swears under her breath and bites her lip, trying to summons some more control over her body. It takes a few attempts but she manages to get the needle ready and begins stitching up the wound.

Before she can finish stitching herself up, the door opens and a boy steps into the cupboard, his face bloody and beaten. Natalia grabs her gun with her free hand and aims it at the boy, before he can notice her presence. She holds the needle with her mouth and keeps her gaze fixed on the boy. He closes the door on himself and turns around to find himself face to face with the barrel of her gun.

"Whoa, lady! Chill out! I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. You don't want blood all over your spandex." He looks her up and down, "Well, no more than there already is. Trust me, blood is a nightmare to wash out. My brother used to say that you could wash blood out with cat piss but I'm fairly sure he just wanted me to stink of cat piss. He was a bit of an arsehole."

Natalia lowers her gun and sets it on the ground at her side. When it becomes clear he's just going to keep on muttering she turns back to her stitching. He's clearly not a threat judging by the sheen of sweat and blood covering his face. How did he manage to get past all the doctors looking like that? He looks vaguely familiar but through all the blood and swelling it's hard to tell for certain.

"Do I know you?" The boy cocks his head and leans in slightly closer - trying to get a better look at Natalia. Suddenly the piece fit together in her mind. He's the boy from from the carnival in Budapest. What was his name? Hawkeye?

"No." Natalia states, refusing to acknowledge him. He squints, sceptical of her response. Everything will be so much easier if he never remembers who she is. Why can't she just stitch herself up in peace.

"I'm sure I've seen you before... " He tilts his head the other way and squints even more. Natalia can't figure out what that's doing for his memory but she doesn't say anything. He can make a fool of himself all he wants.

"Wait! You're that girl from Budapest! Natalie right? Weren't you Russian?" He sits down next to her and smiles the same smile from all those years ago. She shuffles away from him, resuming her stitching. He looks over at her, apparently not making a move for the medical supplies she assumed he came in here for.

"Aren't you going to treat your wounds?" She asks quietly, continuing diligently with her stitching. Her hand shakes with every stitch and she begins to wish she'd raided that liqueur store she passed on the way here after all. They're not neat but they don't need to be to do the job.

"Did you get that from one of your targets? I'm assuming you're still in that business." Natalia catches her breath and bites her tongue. Her thoughts go back to the red room where they'll be waiting for her to report back from the mission. Who knows how they'll act when they hear about how it went. _The KGB doesn't believe in second chances_. No they most certainly do not.

She stops her stitching and looks over at him instead, her eyes meeting his. His injuries look worse than she thought. It looks like someone tried to kill him with only their fists. His clothes are ripped and bloody, matching his knuckles. Mud has been splattered all over him. His face isn't the only thing injured, he also has a slash on his arm that is adding to his over all bloody appearance. 

"What do you want?" She sighs.

"I'm just making small talk." She scoffs. When did assassination become a topic of small talk.

"If you're in here like that you must want to stay hidden from the doctors, so shut up before someone hears your rambling." Natalia turns back to her stitches, quickly finishing them up and tying off the string. 

"Fine, hand me the needle." His voice suddenly becomes serious and sombre, losing the light hearted tone from before. He holds his hand out expectantly. Natalia raises her eyebrows and breaks the thread by tearing it with his teeth. She hands him the needle and leans back against the metal shelving, observing his medical skills. His hands shake and the stitches are sloppy. Just watching him trying to stitch himself up is painful.

"You really suck at that." She states, her eyebrows creased. If she thought the stitches she'd done were sloppy then his were an abomination. 

"Whatever. Not all of us are trained for this kind of stuff." He blushed bright red and focuses all his attention on the stitches. With every stitch he does his movements get sloppier, the pain clearly getting to his head. She's surprised he hasn't passed out yet, although judging by his pale, taut skin he's not too far off.

"Give it to me." She grabs the needle out of his hand and begins stitching up the wound for him. She keeps her gaze off of Clint and tries to make the stitches as neat as possible. He opens his mouth preparing to say something stupid again but appears to think better of it. Instead he allows her to work in peace which she's immensely grateful for. She bites her lip as she feels him wince him from the needle.

He reaches into his coat pocket with his free arm and pulls out a small, pocket sized bottle of whiskey. He takes a quick swig of it and hands it to Natalia. She stops sewing and takes it from him, glad at least one of them came prepared.

"Thanks." She hands it back to him and lets him take another swig before resuming her stitches. He still winces but he seems slightly less bothered this time.

"There, done. You can deal with the other wounds yourself." She whispers once she's finished and she ties up the end of the stitching.

"Thanks. I told you you seemed nice." He hands her the bottle which is still half full. She takes the bottle and downs the last bit, feeling some of the warmth return to her as she does.

"And i told you that you had bad judge of character." She shrugs on her jacket and turns away from Clint. She stows the empty bottle away in her jacket pocket and steps past Clint to stand in front of the door.

"Don't follow me." She warns as she steps out of the door.

Doctors are rushing around at top speeds, trying to get to patients in need as fast as they can. The sterile smell of the hospital sets her on edge, remind her of her recent operation.

Two doctors round the corner, their footsteps hasty and rushed. She hurriedly darts into one of the patients rooms, trying to hide from them.

"Can you go get the supplies from the cupboard and bring them to me in the patients room once you're done with that?"

"Sure." She overhears as they walk past the room.

She sighs and wonders what the hell she's doing. His words back in the carnival ring through her mind. The feeling she felt back when she heard that boys cries rises again as well. She supposes she must be getting weak. At least she doesn't have the red room to worry about - they'll have already written her off.

She was right back then: she truly has no place in the world. Her ledger is too red to be on the good side of things and her heart too pathetic to fit in back in the red room. Where does that leave her now? 

Instead of leaving the hospital like she should she walks back down the hall and opens the cupboard door again. Clint is still at on the floor like an idiot, trying to treat his remaining wounds pathetically.

"Change of plan, you're coming with me now before the doctors come back here." She grabs the first aid kit out of his hand and tucks it under her arm, dragging Clint up by his wrist.

"And you said I had bad judge of character." Clint smirks and let's Natalia drag him upright.

"Shut up."


	3. Jeeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha find an unlikely ally in the backstreets of New York

_17/07/2015, 12:23_

  
When Clint wakes up he's in a proper bed for the first time in as long as he can remember.

Despite his aching wounds, he has never felt this comfortable. Back in the circus he would sleep on a wooden bed without a mattress or proper covers. Even before the crash that orphaned him and his brother he hadn't had a bed. His dad always believed in a...stricter...version of parenting.

A television blares in the background somewhere, but his eyes are too heavy to open. It feels like something from a distant world that doesn't concern him.

He hides himself under the covers of the bed and pressed his face into the pillow. Fire races along his nose as he knocks it the wrong way. The pain wakes him up from his sleepy daze and forces him to open his eyes and acknowledge the outer world.

"You finally awake, sleeping beauty?" An unfamiliar voice calls out from the other side of the room. 

Clint bolts up, reaching for his bow and arrows that he always keeps next to him. His stomach drops as he fumbled through empty space.

That's when he remembers everything that happened.

The image of Jacques face as he beat Clint mercilessly fixed to the surface of his mind. Barney was there too, he watched it happen and did nothing. He couldn't even meet Clint's eyes. What brother does that?

Clint grips the covers tightly in his fist. His knuckles shine white against the dark blue bed covers.

Movement at the other side of the room brings Clint back to reality. The girl from Budapest all those years ago is prowling the room. Natalie.

Guns are tucked into her belt and her hair is tied up in a neat bun. Efficient. She's wearing a fresh pair of leggings and a white vest he certainly doesn't remember her wearing before. She had no bags or clothes on her when they left the hospital. She must have got them while he was sleeping.

"I forgot about you." He murmurs and releases the covers from his death trip and wiping his sweaty hands on the covers. 

"Why am I not surprised." She removes one of her guns from the booster and holds it up to the level, examining it. Terror rises as he see the gun in her hand, pointed at the wall next to him. He pulls on the mask of calmness he's been using for years as his own form of armour.

"How long have I been asleep?" Clint runs his eyes and searches the room for a date or time.

"About 30 hours. I was beginning to think those wounds were worse than they looked." Natalie refuses to look him in the eyes while she speaks.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" He furrows his eyebrows, annoyed at himself for lowering his guard around an assassin. After all he's only met once before after she murdered his bosses friend in cold blood.

"I was busy, and you weren't doing any harm lying there." 

"Where did you sleep?" Natalie scoffs, meeting Clint's gaze finally.

"I'm not dumb enough to let my guard down around you, Hawkeye." Clint's smile drops at the sound of the name.

Now that the carnival has moved on without him what is he supposed to do. What prospects does a failed circus act have in this country?

"What are you pulling that face for?" Natalie raises her eyebrows at him, perplexed at his erratic behaviour.

"Don't worry."

"Whatever you say." She looks like she's about to say more when the news story changes and her eyes suddenly darker. Clint notices the sudden tensing of the muscles in her back and the guarded armour she suddenly pulls on. He puts all thoughts of his future to one side and turns his attention to the television.

"...girl has drowned after a car crash on the fifteenth that left her parents in comas. The surviving children, Stephen and Victor Strange, have refused to speak to the police about the incident so the cause of the accident is, as of now, unknown."

A picture of the family appears in the screen. The parents have their arms around the older son and daughters shoulders, the youngest son - not even ten years old, is perched on the mothers hip. 

Natalie moves her aim to face the television, pointing the gun directly at the image of the older son. She closes one eye and stares directly down the barrel of the gun at the TV screen.

"I'm guessing that was you then. You've moved on from old men to young kids." Clint tries to keep the disdain from his voice when he speaks.

He can accept someone killing a deserving monster, some people get whats coming to them, but a child is different. Children are impressionable, innocent. They don't make their own choices. Clint knows that as well as anyone. He would've thought Natalie did as well. Perhaps he was wrong about her. It wouldn't be the first time this week. 

Natalie whirls her head around to size him up. For a second her thick armour falls away to show the girl underneath. The uncertainty. Doubt.

Before he can react the walls are back up. There's no sight of Natalie underneath it all. She's drowning in it all again.

"And you graduated from running around in a ridiculous outfit, shooting arrows at targets, to bleeding up hallways. Didn't you have a brother? Where's he now?" Her voice is perfectly calm and peaceful lake. Unmoving and unrelenting. Her words are carefully weighted. She knows the impact of each one.

He doesn't even bother to ask her how she knows about Barney. It's clear she knows more than she lets on and more than she should. 

Clint breaks his gaze with Natalie and looks down at his hands, still clammy and white.

Silence settles around the pair of them in the crummy motel room. Natalie moves to sit next to him on the bed, leaving her gun on the table at the edge of the room. She sits as far away from Clint on the bed as possible, her head bowed and her eyes closed.

"I have no where to go anymore. There's nothing out there for me." Clint mumbles quietly, knowing Natalie will hear him anyway.

"I can't go back either. I failed my mission and brought attention to the event. If I go back they'll kill me." She turns to look at Clint. She looks just as lost as Clint.

Clint stands up slowly and walks over to the TV mounted on the wall, switching it off. The sudden silence falls over to room at the loss of the background noise.

"She wasn't the target. Her death was an accident."

"Do you ever regret the deaths? Is there any part of you that feels guilty?"

"I wasn't raised to feel regret or guilt." Her voice hardens, "I'm not that breakable." Although her voice sounds completely sincere, not a hint of uncertainty, her eyes giver her away. No stone cold, doubtless killer has eyes like that. Eyes that mourn. 

"For a spy and assassin you're terrible at lying." Clint scoffs. She might've gotten older and faster and smarter but her eyes haven't changed a bit.

"This is my place in the world. This is what I'm good at. There's not much call for liars and killers outside my profession." Clint walks back over to the bed, sitting down slightly closer to Natalie than before.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try. If you've got red in your ledger you just need to wipe it out right?" It's Natalie's turn to scoff now.

"You make it sound easy.

"I'd like to think it is."

"Don't we all?" 

"Well then it's settled. We can figure out this weird world together then. What do you say Natalie?"

"You know my name isn't Natalie right?" A hint of a smile rises to her lips. She looks down at her hands meekly.

"What is your name then?"

"Natalia, Natalia Romanov." The Russian accent he remembers clearly from Budapest slips back into her voice as she says her actual name for the first time.

"Nartailia?" Clint furrows his brow and attempts to copy her accent.

"No, Natalia." She repeats, slower this time.

"Whatever - I'm going to call you Natasha. Natasha Romanoff." He smile brightly, forgetting who he is talking to for a second.

"That's absolutely nothing like my name. You were closer with Natalie." She grumbles which only makes Clint laugh.

"Natasha suits you. My names Clint but can call me Hawkeye."

"You're sticking with that ridiculous stage name?" She arches her eyebrows, sneering at the name he's been using for years.

"Why not, it makes me feel like a superhero - like Captain America. You don't expect me to believe you never had a code name in your line of work?" Natasha bites the inside of her cheek.

"They used to call me Black Widow." She mumbles and inches her hand towards her holster tenderly.

"Black Widow and Hawkeye!" He grins lopsidedly and holds his hand out in a gesture of goodwill. Natasha grabs his hand and shakes it gently.

"Sounds more like we should be hitting banks and burning buildings than cleaning our ledgers." 

"Well a mans gotta eat - Where should we head first?

  
~~~

_19/09/2015, 22:16_

Natasha looks over at Clint, the moonlight illuminating his ridiculous purple costume. He insisted if she got to wear spandex that he had to have his own spandex suit to match. However, unsurprisingly, it turns out Clint is an awful fashion designer. Somehow he's got it into his head that purple is better than black. One day she'll have to burn that suit but that day isn't today.

Her own suit is more covered up and practical than his. While hers is a full body suit with long sleeves, his leaves his arms completely exposed to nature. There's nothing more than an arm guard covering his forearms. There's also a ridiculous skirt like fabric hanging from the front of his belt that he has yet to explain.

He flashes her a grin and pulls the mask back over his face. The mask is much like his circus mask, rising up into large comical points either side of his head. He's gotten rid of the "H" on it which is a slight improvement she supposes.

"Where we headed tonight, Widow?"

"Don't act like you give a damn about my opinion Clint, we always go where you decide. " She grumbles, holstering her gun. He pouts as she uses his name. He's still adamant on them having cool code names. 

"Fine then, be that way." He begins stalking off into the dark, his arrows clattering in their sheath as he moves. Natasha rolls her eyes but follows him anyway - knowing he's going to need to be dug out of some hole sooner rather than later. 

Natasha starts climbing up the nearest wall, using the drain pipe to pull herself up the three floors. Clint slings his bow over his shoulder and follows her up, trusting her instincts over his own. They navigate the dark alleys from the rooftops where no one is able to see if head them.

Clint suddenly stops dead and holds his finger to his lips. Natasha stands next to him, straining to hear whatever he heard. Voices from the alleyway below drift up to their ears. Clint's eyes darken as he listens to the exchange.

"...hands up!"

"If it's money you want I'll give it to you, just let the woman go!" An British mans voice joins the conversation. His voice shakes as he tries to plead with someone.  
Clint turns to Natasha and removes his mask. His jaw is clenched and his knuckles are white. He grabs his bow and reaches for his arrows in his sheath.

"We have to go help him. Whoever is down their has a gun." Natasha grabs his wrist to stop him loading his arrow. His eyes darken and fix on Natasha

"What are you talking about Clint? We could end up killing the assailants. We're supposed to saving people - not killing them!" She knows there's no use in arguing with him though. He won't be swayed.

"I told you before. Some people deserve to die."

"How do you know these people deserve to die though?"

"We stopped that jewellery shop robbery a few days ago - how was that different to this?" He hisses and pulls his wrist out of her grasp harshly. As she expected he ignores her question, his mind already decided.

"Because they weren't armed we knew what we were going into. We have no idea what the situation is down there and without the right knowledge we're only going to make things worse! Chances are we'll all get killed." Clint shakes his head and moves towards the edge of the roof.

"You can't know that for certain. You're not as all knowing as you pretend to be."

"I've had training in analysing these situations."

"I don't care what the red room taught you, that man needs help and we can do something for once." He grabs and arrow from his sheath, loads his bow and disappears off the roof. 

Natasha shakes her head and pulls out her gun. She opens the cartridge, checking how many bullets she has.

"Two bullets. Great." She rolls her eyes and runs over to the edge of the roof - following Clint down into the darkness.

She jumps off of the drain pipe and lands gracefully next to Clint, who, by the looks of things, didn't land quite as gracefully. His mask is pulled down again and one of his arrows is buried in the leg of one of the muggers. His next arrow is aimed at another mugger but he doesn't even bother to look at where it's aimed - he doesn't need to.

"Glad you could drop by, Widow." 

"If I die, I'm blaming you Clint." One of the attackers begins to move slowly to try and reach his weapon.

"Stop being dramatic." He rolls his eyes and suddenly whips his bow around and let's loose his arrow directly into the abdomen of the moving attacker without looking.

The other attackers suddenly spring into action, trying to swarm Clint and herself.

The couple they were ganging up on before are forgotten in place of the new, bigger threat. Clint knocks two arrows into place and shoots at the legs of the incoming attacker.

Natasha dives into the fray and knocks the two remaining attackers down before they can even process whats happening. She shoots each of them in the leg to stop them from getting up again.

He walks over to the couple and helps them back into their feet. Natasha walks around and pulls the arrows out of each of Clint's victims. Arrows are surprisingly over priced and she can't afford to keep stealing them because Clint forgets to collect them after a fight.

"Hey, you're okay now. Those guys aren't going to be walking any time soon." Clint smiles at them.

"Thank you, you saved my wife's life."

"People would've heard the gun shots and they'll be in their way to soon, we have to find somewhere to stay for the night." Natasha whispers into Clint's ear, her hand squeezing his shoulder to get his full attention.

She hands Clint back his arrows. He wrinkles his nose up in disgust at the mess all over his precious arrows and wipes them off on the shirt of one of the guys on the floor before tucking them back into the sheath.

"You can come stay with us for the night as repayment for saving us." The man looks to his wife for confirmation and she nods solemnly, "My name is Edwin and this is my wife Ana." Natasha is just about to refuse their offer when a police siren rings out through the night.

"We would be very grateful." Clint says before following the couple back through the alleyway to their house.

~~~

_19/09/2015, 23:37_

Clint is surprised when the car pulls up in front of a huge mansion. Edwin's clothes weren't particularly nice and Ana's were even worse. They didn't look like a couple who made up the better half.

"This is where you live?" Clint asks incredulously. 

"Not quite," Ana laughs. She sounds foreign, maybe Hungarian. He travelled a lot around that area when he was with the circus, not that he''s great at distinguishing between all the accents.

"Edwin works here as a butler. Howard gave us a house on the property so that Edwin could be closer to the family." She explains kindly. It reminds him of his own mother, or what little he could remember of her.

The car drives down small road and pulls up in front of a homely looking cottage tucked away in a forest next to the mansion. The cottage looks much more appealing than the huge mansion, more like a home.

Small flowers are growing in neat lines along the edge of the cottage and vegetables are growing along trellis' in the front garden. There's a thin mud path curling through the garden up to the front of the cottage.

The cottage is made of dark cobble stone and topped with dark red tiled roof. Small quaint windows line the walls, decorated with white shutters keeping the house private. Boxes of flowers are underneath each of the windows.

Ana gets out of the car first and opens the door for Natasha who doesn't seem to know what to do. She gets out cautiously and hangs back a bit as Clint follows Edwin and Ana into cottage. She throws him a death glare for getting them in this situation but by the time they've entered the cottage it has faded away.

Inside the cottage is exactly as you would imagine from the outside. Wooden furniture and colourful throws and cushions are scattered around. A small fire place is on one of the walls, surrounded by pictures of the couple and a young boy who looks vaguely familiar. Through the pictures you can see the boy age from infancy to a unfairly handsome teenager.

Other pictures show a woman and Edwin laughing through different stages of life. It is clear to see, even when she is old, she was a beautiful woman.

The kitchen and living room are quaint as comforting, fruit baskets on the table and coffee mugs littering the sides. Clint has stayed in a lot of houses during his time in the system but none of his houses had the feeling of home the way this house does.

"Nice little place you got here, Jeeves." 

"Thank you. I apologise for the mess, Tony was in here earlier today and left all his mugs here. I swear that boy drinks more coffee than is healthy for someone of his age. You remind me a bit of him actually." Edwin smiles and flicks on the switch next to the fire place. Fire suddenly erupts in the pile of wood, bathing the room in warmth and a pale orange light.

"We've been living in motel rooms for weeks so this is better than I'm used to." Clint grins and flops down on the sofa. He sets his feet on the coffee table in front of the sofa, relaxing and making himself at home.

"I'll go make some tea for us all then." Edwin says and leaves the room to go into the kitchen. His footsteps fade away leaving nothing but the sound of the fire crackling.

Natasha sits down beside Clint, smiling innocently. She crosses her legs and peacefully taps her feet against the wooden floor boards.

"What's it like working in a place like this?" Natasha asks Ana sweetly, dropping her usual, snarky attitude. 

"Howard is very good to us really. He's a strange eccentric man but he's always taken care of us. The family is like an extension of our own." Ana sits on an arm chair near the fire, "What about your families?"

"We've both been alone for a while, bouncing around from place to place. We have each other and that's enough for now." Natasha looks over to Clint and flashes him a mock smile without Ana or Edwin noticing.

Ana looks likes she's about to say something else when the front door burst open and a dishevelled, hyper active boy bursts in. Clint recognises him from the photos, a son perhaps?

He's carrying a large cardboard box in his hands. It rattles loudly with every step he takes. He's clearly trying to be as careful as possible with the box but it's not going so well. It must be filled with metal or something similar judging by the sound it makes.

His clothes are crumpled and stained with what Clint assumes to be oil. His hair is sticking up in every direction, matching his general appearance pretty well. If Clint didn't know better he would think the boy had stumbled off of the streets.

There's a flask attached to his hip and a general smell of coffee and alcohol coming off of him. 

"I want to show you something!" He suddenly blurts out, completely ignoring Natasha and Clint. He sets the box onto the coffee table beside Clint's feet. 

"Nice to see you again, Tony. Two visits in one day, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I finally finished it!" He grins and begins rustling through the box looking for something. 

"How long has it been now?" Ana smiles and wipes some of the oil off of Tony's face.

"I lost track - I think 51 hours." Ana shakes her head and tousles his hair kindly.

"You can show him if you promise me you'll go straight to bed." She raises her eyebrows and puts a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Fine, fine. I've finished now anyway so I was planning on going to bed anyway." He grumbles and looks around the room for the first time, "Where is Jarvis anyway?" He frowns and looks over Natasha and Clint.

"In the kitchen making tea for our guests..." Ana trails off, waiting for Clint and Natasha to introduce themselves.

"Clint." Clint leans to look at Tony upside down as he introduces himself. Tony grins and hands Clint the flask with a wink. Clint takes it and lifts it to his lips. At first it seems like coffee but he quickly realises it's been spiked with whiskey. He downs it gratefully. He hasn't had proper alcohol in ages.

"Natalie." Natasha smiles meekly, her fingers fiddling with her wrist. 

"Ignore her, her name is Natasha." Clint grins and hands the empty flask back to Tony, who looks kind of annoyed that the flask is empty but tucks it back in his belt without saying anything.

"What's with the spandex?" He magically produces a bottle of whiskey, seemingly out of thin air. This time he hasn't even bothered to add it to coffee or disguise it. He brings it to his lips, ignoring Ana's harsh gaze.

"I think it brings out the colour of my eyes." Clint bats his eyelids at Tony, still upside down.

"It doesn't suit you at all, you should burn it right now - you can burn those cushions as well while your at it." He's waves at masses of cushions swarming the couches with one hand, the other hand still holding his whiskey.

"You wound me! Nat thinks I suit the purple, don't 'cha Nat?" Clint finally looks over to Natasha who has seemingly given up her pretenses in the presence of the strange boy.

"You look like a fashion disaster. You think it's bad now, you haven't seen his mask." She smiles, probably plotting the cruel assassination of his mask and suit. She's never liked the suit for some reason.

"I must say she wears it better than you, Legolas." Tony snorts, his eyes flicking over the bow and arrow leaning against the couch beside Clint.

At that moment Edwin (or Jarvis) returns to the room with four cups of tea carefully balanced on a small tray. He spots Tony and breaks out in a smile, looking both ten years older and younger at the same time.

"Master Stark, what are you doing here?" He sets the tea down on the table and stands up straight and proud.

"Stark. So I'm currently on the famous Stark property." Clint raises his brows, looking at the quaint cottage in a new light.

The Stark's are crazy famous - especially the head of the family: Howard Stark. His son, Anthony Stark is supposedly even brighter than his father but he hasn't been seen for years, since his father sent him to boarding school then college at an early age.

"The one and only." Tony grins and shakes the now empty whiskey bottle and hands it to Ana who reluctantly takes the bottle and walks off to the kitchen shaking her head. 

"What are you doing here, sir? You know how your father feels about your nightly excursions out of the lab." Edwin raises his eyebrows in warning and takes a seat on the arm rest of Ana's chair.

"Who cares what Howard thinks. He doesn't really give a damn what I do with my nights unless it involves the company." Tony waves his hand dismissively, "I wanted to show you the finished product!" 

Tony walks over to the coffee table and takes the tea off of the table just as Clint reaches for the tea. Clint glares at Tony, annoyed at being denied his caffeine but Tony is too wrapped up in his own little world to register Clint's annoyance. Instead he gently places the metal contraption on the table.

Clint's annoyance is traded for curiosity and Tony begins pressing buttons on the metal machine. Natasha even comes forward to get a better look at what Tony is doing.

Ana walks back into the room and leans against the doorway casually not bothering to retake her seat beside the fire. There's still a hint of annoyance at the boys antics but she seems proud more than annoyed now.

"Meet Dum-E." Tony announces and gestures to the metal thing on the table that doesn't seem to be doing anything. Clint frowns and watches quietly - trying to figure out what it's supposed to be.

Tony coughs into his hand, prompting the metal thing into action. It suddenly starts whirring and making a lot of seemingly unnecessary noises.

"He's a bit shy..." Tony says clearly embarrassed by the failure of whatever it was supposed to be, "Dude, your embarrassing me in front of everyone," he addresses the metal thing as if it was a person, "I swear he works - he was working in the lab before I came here."

Slowly the metal starts to unfold and open up to form a small robot like machine with arms and small little wheels. It whirls and beeps and begins spinning around the table. Tony's eyes light up with pride as the small robot does its little dance on the table top.

"Say hello." He says sternly, suppressing his childlike grin. The little robot, Dum-E stops its dance and turns to face Jarvis and gives what looks like a small robotic wave.

"Very impressive, Sir. I'm sure Howard will love him." Jarvis smiles proudly and looks down at the small robot on his coffee table, "It's nice to finally meet you Dum-E." He holds his hand out to the robot kindly. The robot responds by driving into the hand with all its force but due to its small size it only knocks itself over and renders itself helpless.

Clint laughs at the pitiful display from the robot which Tony promptly picks up like you would an injured child.

"He's not the smartest robot - he keeps mistaking bright colours for fire and spraying everything in the workshop down with the fire extinguisher but he'll get there eventually." Tony looks down at his little creation lovingly. He seems much more comfortable around the defective robot than any of the people in the room.

"He takes after his creator," Ana says from the side of the room. She flashes a proud smile to Tony before walking over to Tony purposefully and shunting him toward the stairs, "You showed Jarvis your little one now, but you promised after that you would go to bed - God knows you need it. You might not be taking care of yourself so now it's my job to take care of you and I say you need sleep so go back home now before you collapse and I'm forced to baby you for weeks." She tousles his hair again and pats Dum-E on the head.

Tony begins walking up the stairs with his little robot in hand. He already look half asleep after the first few steps before he disappears from view onto the floor above. 

"That boy is going to kill himself one day, that is it I don't kill him first." She grumbles, walking over to Edwin and resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Tony can be eccentric, much like his father but he's a good boy at heart. There's nothing quite like seeing him with his machines. I have no doubt he would reach much higher heights than his father if he was given more freedom. " 

"If he was given more freedom he would just as likely destroy the world as he would elevate it." Ana snorts and grabs the mug Tony had drank from, clearly noticing Clint's annoyance at missing out on his tea.

"Well I hope I live to see the day him and his bots will take over the world." Edwin says defensively, sipping his own tea daintily. Ana rolls her eyes again but doesn't respond.

"You his better be heading off to bed yourselves, you must be tired from the day. There should be two beds set up in the spare room. Hopefully Tony is still awake enough to remember which room is his." Ana points to the first door at the top of the stairs and hands both of them a mug of tea.

"Thank you for your hospitality. Were both very tired so we'll go up now." Natasha murmurs and pulls Clint off of the couch and up the stairs.

"See you in the morning!" Clint calls down stairs, trying not to spill his hot tea as he is dragged upwards.

Clint expects the stairs to creak or groan as he walks up them but they're completely silent. Even though the house looks old and worn it's clearly well made and sturdy.

Natasha pulls him into the spare room and closes the door behind them. Tony must have found his way to his room because there's no unwanted guests in the bedroom.

She quickly locks the door and stands guard, her hand hovering near her gun. Clint ignores her antics and flops down on the bed, carefully placing his tea on the bed side table.

Natasha carefully sips her tea from her position in front of the door. Her hands cradle it carefully. She's clearly making the most of the warmth she can get from it.

"I don't know about you but these beds are heavenly so I'm going to get some shut eye. I'd highly recommend you do the same." Clint mumbles into the covers, completely burying his face in the material.

Suddenly a bundle of materials hits him around the back of the head. He looks up groggily and takes a closer look at the clothes next to his head. A black Sabbath shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms unroll onto the bed. Natasha is stood next to the wardrobe and has grabbed herself an ACDC t-shirt and is already undressing.

"You can't expect me to wear these. They smell like..." Clint breathe the odd scent in deeply and wrinkles his nose, "oil or is that alcohol - I can't tell."

"Mine smells like coffee - it's quite pleasant actually. " Natasha pulls the shirt on and it's just big enough to look like a dress instead of a t-shirt. She pulls her hair out from the shirt and gives Clint a pointed look.

"I don't care what it smells like, you can honestly be considering sleeping in your sweaty, dirty costume. You wear it enough as it is without sleeping in it."

She pulls her guns out of the holsters and tucks them under the pillow of the bed next to the one Clint has claimed. She folds her black costume up and hangs it over the bottom end of the bed frame. Once she's ready she picks up her tea again and slips under the covers.

"I don't care what you and the mini stark say, purple suits me." Clint grumbles and gets up, holding the shirt up for size. Years of undernourishment meant Clint never grew to be as big as most kids, but the shirt still doesn't seem to swallow him like most do.

He reluctantly slips out of his suit and swaps the spandex for the clothes Natasha fished out of the wardrobe. They're better when they're actually on him.

"It doesn't but believe what you want."

"You know you don't always have to be mean, right? You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." Clint says as he jumps back down on his bed, spreading out to embrace the bed.

"Why would I want to catch flies? If anything I want to get rid of the flies so I would want to use vinegar." Natasha creases her brow and studies the inside of her mug.

"Whatever. What's the point of arguing about it with you." Clint turns away from Natasha and wraps himself up in his covers like a little burrito.

Natasha chuckles and sets her tea down quietly. She wraps herself up in her own covers, one hand underneath her pillow reaching for her gun.

"You know this only for one night. What are we supposed to do after tonight - we left all our money back at the motel room and we have no where to go." She says quietly, paranoid about people listening in.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning? I'm tired of always looking over my shoulder. It would be nice to spend one night not having to worry about tomorrow, you know like normal kids." He unravels his bundle of covers that were forming a warm cocoon and sits up against the headboard.

"Normal kids. Some dream you have for a guy who runs around on rooftops in purple spandex with an assassin." She snorts but doesn't try to mention tomorrow. For once she lets him have the fiction of the night.


	4. Red Ledger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint join the S.H.I.E.L.D academy and meet some new friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all written on my really broken phone because I wasn't able to use my computer so i apologise for any spelling mistakes or typos.

_20/09/2015, 12:01_

Natasha wakes up in an unfamiliar room without Clint.

The covers of the bed next to hers are pulled back messily. She searches for his bow and arrow but both missing. At least he's not unarmed where ever he is.

Her hand wanders absent mindedly to the gun under her pillow, making sure it is still there. Sure enough her fingers brush against the cold surface of the gun. She pulls it out and grips it tightly, examining the barrel in the early morning light. 

Sunlight is streaming in through the windows from high in the sky and the outside world is oddly quiet and peaceful. No one is yelling or fighting outside the streets for ince. It's surprisingly nice to wake up to the sound of birds for a change. She hadn't thought it bothered her.

She quietly slips out of bed and straightens the shirt she was wearing to bed. Her feet press ahainst the rough wooden floor, another nice change from the usual stained carpet of crappy motel rooms. Overall the entire room is better than any room shes stayed in outside of he missions.

The night before comes back to her slowly. She remembers meeting Ana and Jarvis and coming back with them to their surprisingly nice cottage on the edge of the Stark property.

Everyone and their mother has heard of the Starks for better or worse. It’s nice to see this side of them. The side that cares and provides for their staff more than necessary. She wouldn't have expected that behaviour from the files she read. Neither Howard nor his only son Anthony appeared to be the type to give anyone aside themselves that kind of treatment. 

She strips herself while she has some privacy. All thoughts of privacy had faded ever since her and Clint had started hanging out but that doesn't mean she doesn't value whatever privacy she can get these days.

She replaces the borrowed worn shirt she'd been wearing with her own, slowly fading, stolen clothes. Despite the borrowed shirt being older and clearly much worse for wear, she realises it’s much more comfortable than her own shirt. Even the smell is more comforting and homely than the smell of her own clothes.

Sneakily she slips off my own shirt and shrugs on the AC/DC shirt again, covering it up with her own shirt so it’s hidden from view. She straigtens both shirts, making sure the AC/DC shirt is completely hidden from view. It’ll be her secret for now. 

Her hair is a knotty mess as it always is when she wakes up. She usually tries to tie it up before sleeping to prevent this natural distaster but she must’ve forgotten last night. Before she goes downstairs she quickly runs her fingers through it to pull apart the bigger knots. It doesn’t do much to be honey but she doesn’t have time to do any more with it.

As she steps into the landing the floorboards creak quietly. The moans are dulled and muffled but there’s all the same. She instinctively softens and slows her steps to prevent as much creaking as possible. She’s painfully aware of every noise the floorboards make under her weight. Normally her steps would be completely silent as she walked.

At the top of the stairs is a room she hadn’t noticed last night. The door isn’t ajar, showing a filthy room stuffed full of messily thrown about clothes, pieces of metal, coffee mugs and other strange boxes of contraptions.

Posters and medals are strewn over the walls with pride. All of them have been dusted thoughtfully so they gleam in the sliver of light breaking through the crack between the curtains. 

No one is in the bed anymore although the room is clearly well used. Natasha supposes this must be Tony’s room. She’s surprised Tony’s awake right now considering the state he was in last night. She would’ve thought he’d sleep for at least one day judging by the bags under his eyes.

She slowly descends down the stairs, turing away from Tony’s room. There’s the sound of singing and cooking coming from downstairs. If there’s one thing Natasha’s has learnt these past few months it’s that following sounds of chaos and food normally leads to Clint.

When she reaches the living room down stairs Ana is waiting for her and hands her a mug of coffee. Natasha takes it gratefully and smiles gently at the older woman.

The warmth of the drink tricked through her fingers, warming her very bones. She sink into the feeling, soaking you all the heat she can.

"You seemed like more of a coffee person." Ana says as she walks back into the kitchen, gesturing to Natasha to follow her.

She quietly takes a seat at the table and peers down into her mug thoughtfully.

"I am, thank you." She grins gratefully at Ana.

Slowly she takes a large gulp of the coffee, desperate for the dose of caffeine. It isn’t until she takes that first gulp that she realises it is exactly what she has been craving since waking up.

A variety of food has been left out on the counter of the kitchen. Everything from cooked English breakfast to fruit to pancakes are waiting to be eaten.

Natasha swipes alook of the pancakes and drowns them in syrup before sitting down at the table opposite Ana.

"Where's Clint? And Edwin?" Natasha says after swallowing her mouthful of food. Ana looks up, somewhat dazed, and flashes a small, tired smile.

"Edwin is at the mansion tending to Howard and Maria before their flight and Clint has been in the shower for..." She looks down at her watch quickly, "forty five minutes. Does he always take this long in the shower?"

"You wouldn't think so from the way he smells but yes, he does." Natasha thinks back to all the times they've managed to find a room in a motel with a shower, he would always stay in the shower long after it had gone cold and gross. Somehow he manages to smell just as bad when he leaves the shower as when he got in.

"That's just boys, they always smell. Tony is the same - You would think being a billionaire would make a big smell nice but the majority of the time he's in that shirt, covered in oil and sweat." Ana looks down sadly again, not wanting to meet Natasha's eyes.

"You seem very close." Natasha mumbles.

"We are. After Edwin told me that I wouldn't be able to have kids anymore it kind of felt lonely in the house all alone. Then only a few years later Tony was born and..." Ana smiles meekly. She stands up and begins busting herself at the sink, keeping her face turned away from Natasha.

"When you spend that much time caring for a child you feel responsible for them. I might not be his mother but I spent enough time raising him for him to feel like my own." There’s a longing in Ana’s voice and body language as she hunches over the sink keeping herself distracted.

Natasha stops eating and puts down her cutlery, feeling the sharp pain from her graduation stinging for the first time since meeting Clint. She’d thought she’d put it all behind her but apparently not.

She clenches her fists tightly and bites her lower lip. She never considered having kids - it was never something she'd expected from her life, but hearing the loneliness in Ana's voice makes the pit inside much deeper and darker.

Natasha quickly uncurls her fist and stops nibbling her lip as Ana walks back over to the table. She retakes her seat opposite Natasha and dries her hands on her dress.

"How did it happen?" Ana places a gentle hand on Natasha’s, looking at her expectantly.

"How could you tell?" Natasha picks her cutlery up again and begins eating, regaining her composure at once.

"You're not as good as you think at hiding it sweetie. You’re eyes give it all away." She takes her hand off of Natasha's and coughs, "For me it was a bullet. The doctors did surgery to save my life but it destroyed my womb."

"I had a surgery. Everyone did."

"It gets better, I promise." Ana turns her head suddenly - hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. She gets up again and begins washing up her mug in the sink, subtly ending the conversation so Clint doesn’t overhear.

"What did I miss?" Clint says from the kitchen doorway - still dressed in Tony's pyjamas. His hair is wet and messed up and his lopsided grin only adds to the look.

"Food." Natasha digs into the pancakes and takes a huge bite right in front of Clint, knowing full well there is no more left for him.

He swaggers over to the table and sits in Ana's abandoned chair. He attempts to steal some of the pancakes pathetically but Natasha twists his arms and drags him off the chair before he can even smell them.

"You not going to share?" He sticks out his bottom lip as he scrambles back onto the chair.

"It's not my fault you took so long in the shower." She shrugs and carries on eating quietly despite Clint's protests.

"You would spend ages in there too! It was the most relaxing shower I've ever had." He protests but gets up to get his own food anyway.

"Where are you two going next - do you have somewhere to stay? You mentioned that you were alone last night..." Ana asks cautiously, "Edwin will be able to drop you off somewhere in an hour or so when Howard and Maria have left the mansion."  
Clint and Natasha exchange a look.

They had avoided this conversation last night but they knew they would have to decide where to go at some point. So far they'd just been hitch hiking lifts through random cities and sleeping rough or in crappy motel rooms to pass the time.

"No idea. Were travelling around currently and haven't given much thought to out next stop." Clint says, his mouth full of bacon and sausages.

"I saw you two fighting last night - you could do good with those skills if you had the right mentor." Ana says suggestively.

Everyone has agendas, Natasha was certain of that fact. Everything happens because someone somewhere has an agenda, so she was well aware of the fact that all of Ana's questions for into her own agenda. Working out what that agenda is was a whole other thing.

"What like heroes? Turns out it’s harder than it sounds to try and do good on the streets." Clint scoffs and leans back in his chair casually.

"That wasn’t what I meant." Ana shakes her head and sits between Natasha and Clint.

She hands Clint a mug of coffee which he downs gratefully in seconds. He sets the mug down with a thump before resuming his violent destruction of the bacon Ana had lovingly made.

"Howard Stark started an organisation: S.H.I.E.L.D, years ago with some close friends. It takes kids like you and trains them in the academies to help people - to shield them. Theyre a kind of spy agency I suppose."

"Big government facilities aren't really our thing." Natasha says with a touch of hostility. She didn't trade the red room and the KGB for the American government.

"That might be true but they’re different, secret. If you want to do good they’d be willing to take you in, help you. It would be safer for both of you. You’d at least get 3 meals a day and fresh clothes and rooms." She looks over their weary and worn attire.

The streets hadn’t down much for their clothes in the appearance department. Turns out washing clothes in motel bathroom sinks is pretty hard. Hotel sewing kits also aren’t the best for mending rips. 

“It could be good for us.” Clint says, looking to Natasha for approval.

“Edwin could drop you both off there if you want. If not he’ll be happy to take you anywhere you need to as thanks for last night.” Ana smiles, standing up and dusting herself down, “Just think about it. I’m going to head up and have a shower now if there’s any hot water left.” She pats Natashas head as she leaves the room.

“This is the chance we’ve been waiting for. There arent many options left for us now.” Clint whispers under his breath, setting down his cutlery and taking a break from pigging out on the feast before him.

“I’ll go where you go.” She bites her lip and nods, the decsision apparently already made. She just hopes S.H.I.E.L.D is different to the people she’s used to being surrounded by. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D it is then.” He raises his eyebrows and smirks, resuming eating without another thought.

  
~~~

_20/09/2015, 16:48_

  
"I needed to stop off at the Academy anyway. Howard doesn’t like making the trips out there so his jobs always get passed off to me." Edwin says, not taking his eyes off the road.

He’d come back home at around 3 o'clock and, just like Ana said, he offered to drive them wherever they desired.

Natasha has let Clint recount the conversation with Ana to Edwin before setting off, not wanting to have to bother with all the hassle. Edwin has been more than happy to take them there, clearly agreeing with his wife on the matter. Natasha wonders whether they’d discussed the idea last night at all.

Natasha looks out the window, watching the road speed past the window. Tree's and hills appear and disappear from the view of the window, the vibrant colours lighting up the outside world. Not a single car was in sight along the peaceful country road. It seemed that they were truely alone out here.

"That sounds like the Howard I’ve read about." Clint mutters under his breath so only Natasha can hear him. 

Instead of being stuck in the back like Natasha, Clint was sat beside Edwin in the front seat. He called shotgun and no matter how much she twisted his arm and prodded him, he refused to give up his superior seat.

His eyes are also glued to the scenery whirling past the car. Natasha wonders when the last time he was in a car was. He didn’t often speak about life in the circus or before he was orphaned, much like Natasha. They had both silently and mutually agreed it was an out of bounds topic. It wasn’t hard to tell what life had been like though. Clints eyes gave as much away as hers supposedly did.

The radio at the front of the car flicks between different stations as Clint presses every button available to him. Short snippets of music, news and interviews blast through the speakers either side of Natasha. Her head begins to throb with the intense noise and she can't understand how Edwin hasn't crashed the car yet.

She decides to take the matter into her own hands and leans forward in her seat and grabs his arm. She pulls his arm back and twists it so his face is pressed against the car window. He whimpers and tries to reach back and grab Natasha but she dodges his flailing arm easily.

"You'll have to do better than that it you want me to stop, Hawkeye." She smiles cockily and twists his arm even further back causing another cry of pain from him.

"Fine! Fine, I'll stop playing with the buttons." He grumbles through gritted teeth. Natasha released his arm happily and leans back in her chair, allowing herself to be absorbed by the view again.

A new set of buildings have come into view as they finally drive out of the forest into a wide, green clearing. Somehow the dense forest had made the entire clearing completely invisible until they actually pulled into it.

There are three huge buildings made of a smooth white brick and huge (almost floor to ceiling) windows. All of the buildings surround a huge green in a circle with a single road connecting them to the outside world. 

Each of the builidings is completely cut off from the others, and each is big enough to house at least 3 city blocks. They’re odd shapes, completely unlike any building she’s seen before.

As they drive closer Natasha notices students of all kinds of ages milling around outside each of the buildings. As Ana said, it looks like an academy or college of some kind. All kinds of ages are present, everyone from young teenagers to people in their mid twenties can be seen - and that’s excluding the people that are clearly faculty.

One of the buildings has students in lab coats and casual clothes in various states out disarray outside it. They’re spread out across their area of the green casually. They don’t look particularly impressive considering where they are. Instead of working they are taking what is clearly a well deserved break and hangout. 

The central building has a completely different scene. All the students are dressed in the same, black work out attire. There’s the same eagle logo embroided onto each piece of clothing the students are wearing.

Unlike the other students, these ones are all working out in military-esk regiment. A trainer is stood in front of hem, commanding them fiercely without a hint of compassion. 

The final building is more like the first one than the second. The only difference is that there are a lot more students outside and all of them are dressed formally. There doesn’t seem to be a clear uniform like the central building but they’re all clearly professional and hard at work unlike the relaxed, casual nature of the first building. 

The car parks in the middle of the plaza where all the builidings meet. There are no ther cars parked nearby, the only other thing filling the gravelled space is a large water fountain.

Edwin turns around to look at Natasha. His features are hardened compared to how they were when they were cottage and throughout the car journey. 

"If either of you tell anyone about what you see you won’t like the consequences. These people can be scary when you're not on their side." He warns and turns to Clint. He gives him a pointed look, narrowing his eyes at Clint suspiciously.

"We promise we won't say a thing." Clint says as he raises his hands above his head defensivly.

"Good." He says, his face suddenly relaxing.

He steps out the car, waiting for them to follow. Natasha opens the door and steps out of the car, standing beside Clint cautiously.

She raises her guard subtly as she scans the new location for any incoming threats. S.H.I.E.L.D might claim to be the good guys but Natasha can’t afford to let her guard drop as a result of that knowledge. She was trained better than that.

Edwin suddenly starts walking away from the car towards the huge central building ahead of them. Clint begins chasing after him, leaving Natasha by the car alone. She casually walks after them - not all that bothered about getting there quickly. She’ll be able to catch up if she loses sight of them.

She spots a man walking across the plaza towards them, his suit neatly pressed and sunglasses covering his eyes. He doesn't look particularly threatening and reminds Natasha more of a puppy than anything else.

She makes a note of his ear piece and the gun tucked into his waist band and instinctivly begins moving closer to Clint.

Edwin noticed the man and instantly relaxes. He smiles slightly and walks over to the man, greeting him with a formal hand shake.

"Good to see you again, Coulson." Edwin says as he lets go of the man's hand.

"You too, Jarvis. It's been too long." He smiles warmly and turns to Clint and Natasha, "who might these be?" He asks and holds his hand out to Natasha. She stares at his hand and shakes it politely, managing a smile to match Coulson’s.

"Natasha Romanoff." She says carefully, letting go of his hand and stepping back to make way for Clint.

Coulson offers his hand to Clint next who makes no effort to step forward and greet him.

"Clint." He says and crosses his arms and stands up straight, staring Coulson in the eyes.

Coulson drops his hand and turns back to Jarvis, not that bothered by the obvious rejection.

"What's the special occasion?" Coulson asks.

"They’re new recruits. They saved Ana and I last night. I dropped them by since Howard asked me to pick up a few things." He says polietly, gesturing to the pair.

"The same as always then. I’ve seen you here much more than Howard.” Coulson laughs and smiles dopily. 

“Mr. Howard is a busy man. He often finds himself too busy to make the journey here.” Edwin responds curtly, defending his boss diligently. 

"Fury is in his office - I'm sure he'll be expecting you." Coulson points to the glass building ahead, "It was nice to see you again." He says.

He quickly waves to Natasha and Clint before leaving them to head to an old, well polished, red car parked across the plaza.

Edwin starts moving towards the building again, slightly more relaxed than last time. Natasha follows behind, slightly intrigued about the academy and the students that attend it surrounding them.

All the people, even the ones not by the first building seemed to be very physically fit and clearly well trained (even if they’re trained in different disciplines).

Natasha has been trained from a young age to be able to judge peoples abilities - especially when it comes to fights and everyone by the building in front of her feels dangerous and threatening.

"This certainly isn’t like any academy’s ive heard about." Clint leans over to Natasha and whispers as he sees people sparring on the green under a tree.

"I suppose it wouldn’t be. It’s a government run facility training young kids to be spies - I wouldn’t expect it to be normal." She whispers back in a hushed voice as they rush to catch up with Edwin who is well ahead.

Despite what she said she marvels at the efficiency and skill of all of the students - especially the younger ones. The place reminds her of a softer, more caring version of the red room. 

The trio reach the building and stand in front of the huge glass doors to the building. Edwin reaches into his jacket and pulls out an ID card which he holds up to the door. Instantly, the doors open and cool air rushes over them.

Inside the building are even more people - alo dressed in a matching uniform or work out gear. Each of them are wielding some kind of weapon that they specialise in. Natasha can’t help but think about how well Clint would fit in here.

"Welcome to the SHIELD academy. This is the special operations branch. I do not usually come to this specific building so this is as new an experience to me as to you." Edwin whispers into their ears.

Natasha notices Clint looking up at the building in awe. The high ceilings and glass make the building look like something out of a sci-fi movie. From the entrance way you can look up and see all the floors over looking the communal area.

The building must be at least thirty floors high and the floors overhang the area like balconies. All the glass makes the light split and form mini rainbows in places and the white walls and black floors perfectly contrast.

Mud and blood have been trodden into the black floor but they’re hardly visible. Dark slabs were a good choice considering the students evident habit of not wiping their shoes when they enter the room. 

There’s a huge vertical stone slab in front of the glass with small metal plates stuck along it covering almost the entire surface. Each of the plates appears to have a name engraved in it to form a sombering memorial walls. The sheer number of plates lining it drills a pit into her stomach.

Edwin calls her attention away from the wall by leading them into a half glass half metal lift across the room. 

As they enter the lift Natasha’s eyes search around for the buttons but struggles more that she would’ve been thought. It’s not until Edwin reaches and presses one of the elegant buttons that she notices them. They’ve been worked into the metal section of the lift, perfectly blending into the surface. She can only see the light illuminating the the selected floor number and not the button itself.

Just as the doors are about to close a girl rushed in, sticking her hand in between the closing doors to force them open again.

Her hair is blonde and slightly curly at the ends. She's dressed in knee length leggings and a sports bra and is sweating furiously.

Two metal poles are at her side's and she is bleeding from her lip. Despite the blood on her lip she shows no obvious injuries - least of all on her lip. 

She’s the only one Natasha has seen so far in this building without, what she assumes is, the SHIELD logo embroided into her clothes. Her outfit is more relaxed and personal than all the other students.

"Which floor do you need?" Edwin politely asks the girl.

"Twenty eighth floor." She says brashly. She wipes the blood off of her lip with the back of her hand and grins at Clint.

"Fresh blood?" She asks Edwin, eyeing up both her and Clint.

"Of sorts" Edwin says, standing up straight and coughing awkwardly in a strange attempt o diffuse the tension.

"Nice bow." She turns to Clint and flicks his arrows in the sheath so they clatter loudly.

"Nice sticks. I bet you kill alot of people with those." He nods to her staves.

She reaches into a concealed pocket in the side of her leggings and pulls out a pair of knives. In a flash she throws them up in the air lightly and catches them again, pointing them directly at Clint.

"I find these are more useful for that side of things. Of course my sticks can be quite useful too."

The doors open suddenly with a ding and a man with an eye patch is stood in front of the doors. His arms are crossed and Natasha can't tell if he's furious or tired or bored.

He steps back to let them all exit the lift and starts walking away from the lift. Edwin starts following him through the building, with Natasha, Clint and the girl trailing behind.

"What are you doing here, Jarvis?" The man asks without turning around.

He walks into an office and walks over to the widow. Edwin stop in front of the unoccupied desk and the other three grind to a halt as well.

"Howard sent me to collect some older items to take back to the Stark's residence." He stated calmly.

"And to drop off some rubbish you found on the street?" The mans reflection is staring right at Natasha, examining her carefully with his one eye.

"We believed it was for the best. They could do some good here, Director Fury, under your tutilage. I have complete faith in their abilities and potential." Edwin doesn’t smile but he sounds almost proud of them despite having just met them the day before.

Clint frowns and attempts to get Natasha's attention but she blanks him. Her eyes remain locked on _Director_ Fury. 

"I'll be the judge of that." Fury's eyes finally leave Natasha as he turns around and rests his hands on the desk, hunched over with his hands forming fists and his head bowed.

"Agent Hill will be more than happy to take you wherever you need to go, Jarvis." Fury mumbles. A young woman with brown hair tied in a no knot materialises behind them.

"I wouldn't say more than happy." She takes Edwin by the arm and allows him to go through the door before her.

Clint and Natasha move to follow him through the door just as the girl steps forward in an attempt to get Fury's attention. He holds a hand out to silence her and looks over pointedly at Natasha, sending that she is still watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Not you two, I need to talk to both of you."

"You don’t want us here, what more is there to say?" Clint keeps his back turned to Fury, bristling easily - like always.

He begins stalking out the room, not even noticing that Natasha isn't following him out of the door.

"Director, I need to talk to you!" The girl who was in the lift with them hisses.

She steps forward to attempt to get Fury’s attention but he doesn’t but even look in her direction. Instead he grabs two files and walks around in front of the desk before Clint can walk away.

"Natalia Alinova Romanov and Clinton Francis Barton." Clint stops dead in his tracks and tenses.

Before he can turn around and do something he's going to regret, Natasha steps closer to Fury. She inches her fingers closer to the razor blade taped to the insider of her thighs.

"Oh sorry, do you prefer being called Black Widow and Hawkeye..." He holds up the files so they can clearly see them before chucking them back into the desk behind him.

"What do you want?" Natasha steps closer to Fury, cutting into him with her gaze. He meets her eyes and scowls, standing up straight to challenge her. She refuses to back down and feels her hand touch the edge of the concealed blade.

"SHIELD has collected data on the both of you. You've done a whole lot of shit between the two of you and these files only scratch the surface."

“That was in the past." Clint interjects, taking a step forward and gritting his teeth, “I would’ve thought your good friend Edwin would’ve mentioned that to you.” Natasha knew he had a short temper but that didn't make it any less annoying.

"Sure, a week ago is the past I suppose."

"What are you talking about?" Natasha moves slightly to get a better look at the file spread out across the table. Fury either doesn't notice or doesn't care because he does nothing to stop her from peering at the small snippets of visible writing from the file.

"A week ago the two of you robbed a bank and got two guard killed as you did it." Fury fishes out the file from the mess on the table and hands it to Natasha who takes it cautiously.

The file describes the robbery they stopped a week ago. Apparently due to previous affiliations the law enforcement was blaming them for the whole thing. What’s new? 

"That wasn't us, it was a case of wrong place wrong time." Clint says abruptly, straightening and looking Fury dead in the eyes.

"I honestly don't care. You're an assassin and a thief - less than three months ago she killed a young girl." He points lazily to Natasha, "but that's not what I want to talk about. I was telling the truth: I don't care. Here at SHIELD we do what is best for the people and make the hard calls - even when people don't agree with us." He steps forward and takes the file out of Natasha's hand, replacing it with a different file.

She flicks through the pages, scanning the words and images. Images and reports of events Natasha never even knew happened are detailed in great length. Everything from a project rebirth to superpowered soliders, soccerers and undersea princes. There are accounts of aliens and gods from beyond this world. It all seems too abstract to be true but she finds herself oddly believing every word.

Ana said it was a secret government spy agency. If this is just a spy agency then Natasha is just an average teenage girl.

"We take in people like you - people with bad pasts that want a fresh start. From what I've heard you could do good here. You're skilled and seem to want to change."

"So you are trying to recruit us now?" Clint frowns and crosses his arms.

"I'm offering you a clean slate and the chance to make up for all the shit you've done."

"Okay." She says, tearing her eyes away from the file in her hands. Clint gives her a look and walks over, grabbing her by the shoulder to drag her away from Fury.

"What are you saying. We don't work with people like him, they can't be trusted and don't give a rats arse about us." He leans close and hisses into her ear.

"When has anyone given a rats arse about us? You said so yourself: this is the chance we’ve been waiting for. It's not about that okay. We don't have to trust him or even like him but the things they do here...We could actually do something useful for once. My training is no use out there - I can't do anything to really help, but here they could use my skills to help people. You were right back there, this is the chance we were looking for Clint. If you really want to help people you'll take this opportunity." She hands him the file and walks away from him towards the corner of the room.

He flicks through quickly, one eye constantly watching Natasha as he skims the pages. He tenses slightly while reading and his eyes harden but Natasha already knows his response.

"Fine. Where she goes, I go." He chucks the file on the desk and glares at Fury before taking his place beside Natasha in the corner of the room.

"I'm glad to here it. Barbara will show... "

"Bobbi, and no I won't. " The girl interrupts, walking over to Fury and slamming her staves on the desk.

"Barbara, Bobbi, Mockingbird - call yourself whatever you like, you're going to show them around whether you like it or not." He says warningly.

"I came here to talk to you about the thing." She raises her eyebrows suggestivley.

"I don't care - we can talk about that later when I have time to talk about it." He says in a final tone.  
Bobbi seems to realise that arguing isn't going to get her anyway but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in before turning back to Clint and Natasha.

She walks past them out of the door before stopping when she realised that they aren’t following. She leans back to look through the door.

“Are you coming?"

Clint and Natasha exchange a look and sigh. Clint leads the way, taking the first step towards Bobbi out of the door. Just as they're about to leave the room Fury speaks.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next weeks chapter is going to be the Christmas one thanks to my poor timing!


	5. Deck the Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha get settled into SHIELD academy life and prepare for their first proper Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How were everyone's Christmas's (or whatever else you celebrate around this time of year)? 2019 is on the horizon now - hopefully it's not as nuts as 2018 was. I suppose since Endgame is going to be released it's going to be just as emotionally devastating as 2018 was. Enjoy your new years and I'll see you all again in 2019

27/09/2015, 05:00

Clint had never seen something quite like SHIELD. He'd never properly been to school but he was sure the academy was nothing like normal schools. Not only was the curriculum completely different, the teachers, students and even classrooms were completely foreign to him.

Life in SHIELD was much more regimented than Clint was used to especially since he'd been living on the streets and in the circus for the better part of his life. All the students had strict schedules and got up at ridiculous times in the morning for intense training exercises that felt like they lasted a life time. There was next to no free time in the day - not that he has enough energy to make the most of what little free time he has.

As much as Clint hates to admit it, he likes Fury. Despite being the leader of a secret spy organisation he felt considerably more trustworthy than any of the people Clint had worked for before. He kind of reminded Clint of Natasha: both of them are liars but they had good hearts even if they tried to hide it behind an impenetrable concrete wall of badassery.

Unfortunately S.H.I.E.L.D's teaching scheme prevented him from being allowed to use or even touch a bow. Apparently he had to graduate to use one which sucked ass. It seemed until he graduated from the academy he would be forced to use anything but a gun - however so far it seemed to be exclusively hand to hand training.

Obviously Natasha took to the academy like a fish to water - her freakishly well rounded skills in a huge variety of fields coming in handy for a place like this. She had an unfair advantage though compared to all the other students. No one else he's met here has be rigorously trained by Russian assassins since they were five.

It became clear in the first day that Clint would need to but in more effort than Natasha to graduate. Clint had never been one for idle thoughts or unfulfilled promises so he quickly set to work figuring out a way to fit some extra training time into the day. That's how he ended up here, in the dimly lit training centre at 5 am.

He'd hoped to get in an hour training before everyone came down for morning warm ups and enjoy the peaceful silence of the empty gym but that didn't exactly go to plan. By the time he'd dressed and gotten into the room he wasn't alone.

Someone was stood on the mat in the furthest corner, furiously beating a punching bad with super human strength. A girl.

Their posture reminded him more of a bird about to take flight than the seasoned fighter they clearly are. There's a strange elegance to them that Clint couldn't gain even if he trained his whole life. A natural, pure elegance.

He quietly moves towards her mat, trying not to disturb her. As he approaches her he begins to recognise her long blonde hair and battle hardened features. She's the girl from the first day who showed them around the facility. Bobbi.

Her hair has been neatly tied up into high ponytail that dances as she moves, swaying side to side uninterrupted. Cloth is wrapped around her knuckles in a pathetic attempt to protect them from being torn apart by her punches.

"You've clearly got more muscle on you than I thought." Clint says, nodding to the punching bag which is barely holding onto the stand.

"You'd be surprised what science can do these days. It could even pack some muscle onto your stick legs." She smirks, not at all surprised to see him here. He'd hoped to catch her off guard but he should've known it would take more than quiet footsteps to sneak up on a well trained spy.

"Science?" Clint ignores her jab at his physique - he already knew he was more bone than anything else. He supposes all the muscles fat and height required for this place would come with time but for now he was content to be the short, baggy clothed, stick boy he'd always been.

"A trial medicine didn't exactly go to plan, or maybe it did - I'm not entirely sure what Fury was trying to do aside from keep me from bleeding out." She resumes punching the bag, her punches slightly angrier and more personal than before.

"You're going to split the bag if you carry on like that." He shuffles closer to her, examining her posture - taking notes for himself. He might as well make the most of this learning experience. He'll begrudgingly admit she's leagues above him in terms of hand to hand combat and he can do any improvements possible.

"They can afford it." She huffs, speeding up her punches.

"I don't doubt that." He cranes his neck subtly, trying to get a better view.

She stops punching, her arms faltering mid punch. She slowly turns around to face Clint, her eyes focused on the cloth wrapped around her knuckles instead of the boy in front of her. She fiddles with the cloths, trying to readjust it and tighten it around her bleeding skin.

"You wanna go." Her eyes rake up and down him, taking a measure of him.

"With your punches?" He scoffs. He saw what she did to that bag and he'd rather keep his balls in tact.

"You scared?" She smirks, raising her arms up defensively and bracing herself.

"You bet."

"I'll go easy on you."

"You really want to hit me."

"I _want_ a fight. Punching bags go down to easily."

Clint sighs, not really wanting to back out anymore. He could do with some real action as much as she could.

He raised his arms like hers and meets her eyes. Before he's even fully raised his arms her leg moves towards his face, trying to kick him while his guard is still down. He leans back, letting her leg brush the tip of his nose as it barely misses him. She spins around in a full circle from the force of her kick, her back unprotected. He quickly raises his arms and punches her lightly on the back - smiling to himself. First punch goes to him.

She scowls as she comes face to face with him again. She doesn't appear to be angry though - more focused than anything else. Just like everyone she underestimated the little archer boy. Unfortunately she won't make that mistake again.

They trade blows back and for what feels like ten minutes but before they know it it's the end of the hour. They match each other well, better than either of them would've though. Clint is better in an actual fight - his first hand experience invaluable compared to her purely theoretical knowledge.

People start trailing into the room to start the day. As more people arrive they decide to end their fight - the winner undecided.

Both of them are panting and exhausted but are, surprisingly, smiling widely. Adrenaline runs thick through their bodies, their hearts pounding and every part of them drenched in sweat. Clint can't imagine being able to get through the morning activities like this but he's determined enough to drag himself through it.

"You on for tomorrow?" Bobbi asks as she starts her stretches, her eyes sparkling.

"I wouldn't want to miss my chance beat again."

"Sure, you were beating me." She rolls her eyes

"Clearly I was. I got more punches in than you." He holds his head up high, bloating with pride. His ego could do with a boost or two just about now.

"Your punches are nothing though - they hardly even hurt."

"Keep telling yourself that." She scoffs, shaking her head.

"I'll prove it tomorrow." He says with certainty, glaring daggers at her. There's no way he can let her think she was winning. Not a chance.

"Here at 5:00 again then." She holds her hand out to him patiently. He takes it, gladly - sealing the deal.

"See you then."

~~~

21/11/2015, 08:20

Clint is tired. He always is now. It's a good kind of tired though - the type that makes you feel accomplished and sends endorphins running around your head. Not bone tired or mentally tired, just muscle tired.

He slings his sweaty work out shirt over his shoulder lazily. He just came from his work out with Bobbi - another win for him to Bobbi's dismay. They said they were keeping count but that was a lie. Stick two competitive people into a ring together and neither of them can resist keeping a mental tally.

After today it was 28 to 27 to Bobbi. He was catching up with her steadily. Soon enough he would over take her and leave her behind in the dust.

Their fights had started getting longer. Now on weekends when there were no scheduled lessons their battles could last up to three hours leaving them both dying on the floor. They'd take breaks in the middle for water and a little rest but for the most part they fought - helping each other out when necessary.

"Clint!" A familiar voice shouts out from across the room. Clint sighs, rolling his eyes and turning to face the man calling him.

"What is it, sir?" Clint asks as Agent Coulson walks towards him.

Ever since they'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D Coulson had been there trying to help them with anything and everything. His duty was in the recruitment department so he wasn't around the academy too often but whenever he was he would attempt to talk to him or Natasha. Bobbi seemed to see him more as a father than anything else 

"I need Bobbi's help - your's and Natasha's as well if you're willing. Since you're friends with them I was wondering if you would be able to tell them to meet me on the top floor in about 40 minutes." He says hopefully, playing with his watch strap unconsciously.

"What do you need help with?"

"Just bringing some heavy boxes down. Bobbi is better suited to that stuff than me." Coulson smiles his innocent puppy dog smile, shrugging his shoulders.

"Fine. We'll see you beside the elevator." He nods, satisfying Coulson enough for him to leave to room.

Natasha and Bobbi shouldn't be too hard to convince. They both have soft spots for the man - not that they'll admit it. It shouldn't take too long anyway, after all it's just a couple of boxes. How long could it take?

~~~

21/11/2015, 09:00

They wait patiently for Coulson to arrive. Either he's slightly off schedule or Clint got the wrong time - either could be possible in Natasha's opinion.

"He did say 9 o'clock right?" Bobbi frowns, checking her watch. Coulson isn't the sort of person to be late when he sets the time. He's never left them waiting before.

"Not exactly." Natasha sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically to wind Clint up, "Well he said to meet in around 40 minutes which is 9:00, so yes. He'll be here. I know this is the right time." Clint insists, lifting his chin up pridefully.

"We believe you, I just don't like waiting." Bobbi groans, leaning against the wall and fiddling with her staves as usual. She spins them around in her hands, catching them every time only to spin them around again. Natasha has noted this habit multiple times. Of all people Natasha knows the comfort of having something to do with your hands when your bored or lazy. She's caught herself doing similar things herself on more than one occasion.

"Look, here he comes!" Clint says, pushing off of the wall he was leaning against.

Sure enough Coulson is exactly where Clint's accusatory finger indicates, walking towards them. There are no boxes anywhere near him, contrary to what Clint says.

Coulson seems like a good enough man but she can't work out if that is a good thing in SHIELD. Her knowledge of spies is that they're liars, a category Fury fits nicely into. It's hard to pinpoint the position of a man like Coulson in a place like SHIELD. His dopey grin and friendly mannerisms don't align with any of Natasha's prior knowledge. Coulson doesn't seem to match with the background he's been placed in. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” Coulson smiles, hugging a file close to his chest like a lovesick school girl.

“We only got here a few minutes ago, don’t worry.” Bobbi says maturely. She sticks her staves behind her back in their holders, preparing herself for the task ahead.

“Where are the boxes?” She asks, smiling to make sure her voice doesn’t sound as cold as she know it can.

“This way.” Coulson gestures to the room beside them, patiently leading the way for them.

He pulls his ID out and presses it against the pad that’s beside almost every door in the academy. It happily bleeps in response to his ID and the light beside it flashes green.

Coulson opens the door for them, allowing them all to trapse past him into the dark room beyond.

The light flickers as Coulson flicks the light switch. The room doesn’t look like most of the ones Natasha has seen in the academy - and she’s scouted out all the ones shes got clearance for. Apparently level 2 clearance gets you a fair way in the academy despite how low it sounds.

Her and Clint had seemingly been boosted past level 1 and dropped straight in at level 2 (not that she’s complaining).

Inside the room is darker and less high tech than she’s grown accustomed too. It’s more like something she’d have seen at one of the motels they used to stay at instead of the academy.

Cardboard boxes have been stacked on metal shelves lining the walls, mould and general dirt clinging to many of the boxes. There are cobwebs indicating the disuse and disrepair of the entire room.

It looks like a storage room of kinds but doesn’t seem to hold the typical SHIELD grade equipment. Fury values each and every device and file produced at any of the three academy’s and would never allow anything produced here to be stored in this room.

“What are in these boxes?” Natasha asks, peeking into the nearest box to try and gain an understanding of all of the stuff surrounding her.

“Old rubbish no one cares for. I quite like old things though." Coulson says, dropping a deceivingly heavy box into Natasha's arms to stop her rifling and distract her. She recognises his plan but decides not to do anything about it - there's no point in starting any unnecessary fights with staff members. She'd rather keep her place here at the academy for more than a few months.

"What's in these boxes?" Clint asks, weighed down by his own box.

"You'll see in a minute." Coulson grins, grabbing his own box as if it was filled with feathers. At a glance his face would suggest that he's carrying a much lighter box than them but on further inspection it becomes clear that the sweat and strain on his arms is just being well disguised from view. The spy in him shining through. Perhaps she was hasty in dismissing his acting abilities. 

"Is this all of them?" Bobbi asks, carrying two boxes in comparison to our single boxes. Even with her super soldier muscles she shows hints of exhaustion as the boxes take their toll on her. Natasha can see why Coulson wanted her help with moving these. It would take a while for him to move them on his own and Bobbi is as strong as two men.

"It should be." Coulson says happily, heading off towards the door.

When all of them have gotten through the door back into the corridor he turns off the light and lets the door close behind him. Fresh, clean air rushes into Natasha's lungs and she breaths in a few grateful breaths before continuing. The stale air of the room still clings to her tongue forcefully. She tries to get rid of the taste but it shows no sign of leaving any time soon.

"Where are we taking them?" Clint asks. He squirms with the box, righting it gently to maintain balance. Natasha also struggles with her box but hides her difficulty from the other, not wanting to admit defeat to a mould box of god-knows-what.

"You'll see." Coulson grins mischievously, looking over at all three of them happily. Nothing seems to be able to bring down the mans mood. He's like a little ball of sunshine in the middle of the sea of craziness that is the S.H.I.E.L.D academy.

They all bundle into the elevator as it dings open. Bobbi's stack slide around precariously as she shuffles into the tiny elevator. While they were in the storage room the elevator seems to have shrunk three sizes, making it now a bit of a squeeze for them all to get it. Logically she knows it hasn't changed size but the overwhelming claustrophobic feeling drowns out any logic in her mind.

Coulson sticks a finger out from underneath his stack of boxes. Natasha ponders how he managed to free enough of his hand to press the button but those thoughts are quickly vanquished as the elevator starts descending.

The first floor.

What is Coulson doing with all of these boxes?

"You'll see..." Clint mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. Coulson must hear but he completely ignores Clint as if he didn't know Clint was even in the elevator.

The elevator finally reaches the first floor, opening slower than Natasha would've wanted - adding extra strain onto her slowly dying arms. All the others seem to be feeling the strain of the boxes but forget about it as they step out into the lobby.

A huge, almost 50ft, Christmas tree is set up right in front of them. How they managed to get it in here is beyond her but she decides to roll with it. S.H.I.E.L.D isn't particularly normal, this kind of stuff is surprisingly common in a place like this.

"Holy shit." Clint gasps, almost dropping his box as he stares up at the monstrous tree before them.

Bobbi slaps the back of his head playfully at the exclamation causing more colourful language to come out of his mouth.

"Who would've known that Clinton had such a foul vocabulary." Natasha says sarcastically.

She shifts herself and her box away from Clint as he tries to bump into her and sabotage her spectacular balancing skills. He grumbles at his failed attempt but if too busy chasing after Coulson to try again.

Coulson, unlike them, wasted no time gawking at the tree and instead began walking up to the huge tree with his box. He didn't even bother waiting for the other to catch up with him - counting on them following close behind him.

They all catch up with him, setting their boxes down in front of the tree. Natasha almost sighs with relief as she sets down the box, stretching up to click her back as soon as she's dumped her heavy load.

"That's a big ass tree." Clint says.

He's right.

It's even more spectacular from close up. She can't believe it's a real tree. She has never actually seen one this big before - it's amazing. She supposes it's possible to grow them this big but why anyone would spend so much money, time and effort on a Christmas tree is beyond her.

All the branches look beautiful, stretching out to fill up the room grandly. Even bare, without all the decorations it looks amazing. The pine needles are all vibrant green and full of life - she supposes that'll change soon enough. She doesn't envy whoever is going to end up having to sweep all of the needles up every day. A tree that size is going to shed a crazy amount everywhere.

"So these are all decorations?" Bobbi asks, shaking her box slightly and hearing the telltale jingle of bells within.

"Yep. Our very own S.H.I.E.L.D collection of decorations, one for every graduated student or S.H.I.E.L.D member dating back to World War 2 when S.H.I.E.L.D was founded." Coulson says as he opens the box.

He grins gleefully, ever so carefully rummaging around the box and examining the baubles for cracks or damage. Thankfully they all seem to be fine a she steps back from the box to give them space to see.

Sure enough inside is a huge selection of stunning, personally decorated, tiny baubles. A few of them have dates on them. Birth and death dates. A weight suddenly falls on Natasha's thought at the realisation.

"Do you want to help decorate it?" Coulson asks them, his eyes exclusively meeting Natasha's.

Someone Natasha doesn't recognise has the longest string of Christmas lights Natasha has ever seen and is currently stringing them up on the tree. He's done the bottom half and is now stood on a huge ladder to reach the higher bits.

"I wouldn't want to untangle those." Clint says, looking at the currently untangled, straight string of lights.

"That must've been quite the job." Bobbi mutters, stepping closer the Coulson and his boxes of baubles.

Coulson nods and begins looking for a specific bauble in the box. I doesn't take him too long to find them and soon he's holding two old baubles in his hand. Carefully he hands her the two baubles with the name James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers written on it.

She cradles the cold china in her hand as gently as she can. Even though they're made of relatively tough, hard wearing china she feels like a single breath will shatter them.

Unlike the others, these one seem considerably older and more crowded than the more recent ones. The paint looks like it was chipping off but has since been carefully preserved to keep the original images visible.

James' bauble looks more artistic than Steve, a night sky carefully painted on the cold surface. Every star is carefully placed so it looks wild and unruly - an untamed jungle - while also look perfect and ordered. An odd balance. Even the name is artistically done, with the name written in swooping, italic writing. The dates have been done by someone else in equally beautiful but not quite as loving white paint underneath the name.

Steve's bauble looks much messier by comparison, but it has clearly been made with love. The bauble has been painted to look like Captain America's shield with Steve's name messily written underneath it, underlined by a much neater birth and death date. On the back of the bauble are the words “end of the line” written in the same messy black paint as Steve's name.

Natasha rubs her finger across the glossy finish. It feels like an invasion of privacy. These baubles weren't made for her to look at.

She knows enough about the Howling Commando's and the American history to recognise the names on them - Bucky and Captain America. They were supposedly best friends before the war and it's clear these baubles were made together back during the war by each of them. It feels both right and wrong to have them displayed here on the academy's tree.

"Why not?" Bobbi says, stepping forward with her own baubles.

She hangs the first few down low, trying to spread them out as far as possible. Clint joins her to hang some baubles, reading every name as he hangs them up carefully.

Natasha doesn't step forward to join them and instead walks over to a spare ladder leaning against the wall. She pulls it out and sets it up in the centre of the tree away from the others. She climbs up carefully, making sure to protect the baubles as she ascends.

Once she's almost at the top she stops and hangs the baubles up, mostly out of reach. They feel like they should be high up, away from grabbing hands and projectiles. Coulson nods to her in acknowledgement as she catches his eyes from the top of the tree.

Natasha slides down the ladder to collect more baubles. Soon enough Clint and Bobbi have also run out of space on the lower parts of the tree so also need to use the ladder. They decide to take it in turns using it since the man is still using the other ladder to finish stringing up the lights.

While Bobbi is up the ladder, Natasha and Clint play around with a huge rainbow of tinsel that Coulson pulled out of seemingly nowhere. Somehow Clint is able to wear it around his neck without needing to tear the skin of his neck off - a skill Natasha has yet to learn. Clint's sneak attack when he first found the tinsel taught her that. Without warning he snuck up on her and wrapped it around her neck which felt like having a million ants thrown onto her bare skin.

"Super spy and assassin is ticklish?" Clint smirks evilly, plotting something in that evil brain of his.

"Don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone!" She hisses under her breath - glaring daggers at Clint. He appears to get the message but, much to Natasha's dismay, his scheming face is still all too present.

"Or what?" He asks, pushing his luck.

"You don't want to find out." She growls, standing well clear of the murderous tinsel.

Thankfully Bobbi returns before Clint can launch an attack. Natasha darts up the ladder, thankful for the extra space between her and Clint. She trusts him as far as she can throw him when it comes to things like this.

By the time she has gotten back down the ladder Coulson has added cookies and milk to his list of items he can magically conjure up. Her faith is instantly restored in Coulson and his abilities as she grabs a cookie off the plate and a glass of warm milk.

“The tree is looking good.” He smiles, taking a cookie and nibbling on it quietly.

“Have you hung anything up yet?” Bobbi asks, sitting down on the rung of the ladder to fully enjoy the food.

“No. I normally decorate it on my own though so it’s nice taking a break this year.” He says.

“We’ve almost finished now.” Clint says, noticing that they’re finally down to the last box of decorations out of the five full boxes they had at the beginning.

“Not quite.” Coulson says, reaching to one side to show them a box of candy canes of a whole rainbow of different colours.

Clint tries to grab a purple and black one from the box but Coulson pulls it out of his reach before he can properly grab it and closes the box. Clint scowls but doesn’t say anything.

“What are they for?” Natasha asks, furrowing her brow and trying to think about what she knows about Christmas.

“You hang them on the tree.” Bobbi explains, finishing the last of her cookie with one huge bite.

“Haven’t you hung them on your tree before?” Clint asks, still sore about not getting his candy cane.

“I haven’t had a christmas tree before. I never celebrated christmas so we obviously never had a tree. The mistress’ didn’t think celebrations were conducive to high quality assassins.” Natasha frowns, not thinking she really missed out on much.

Sure, she never had presents or cuddles in the winter but she survived and she came out stronger for it. No one made her cookies and milk while they decorated the house but did that really matter? Did all those experiences really matter.

“I’m sorry you missed out on all of this.” Coulson says sincerely, his eyes sadder than I've seen him all day but there a spark of hope. A belief in the future. My future. It’s an odd feeling but it’s surprisingly nice and warm (not that she would admit it)

“Whatever, we’ll just have to fit sixteen years of Christmas’ into this Christmas.” Clint announces.

He’s decorated himself as much as the tree, tinsel wrapped around him and candy canes hanging from his ears. Natasha has no clue when he got a hold of those and nor does Coulson judging by the look on his face but he seems proud of himself.

Natasha smiles slightly at the ridiculousness of it all. Of him. She supposes that’s what happens when you meet your friends in hospital storage cupboards. Sane people don’t end up in those situations.

“You’re setting some high expectations for the day now. We’ll have to see if you can live up to them.” Natasha smirks. Any Christmas would be bigger and better than she’s used to but why not make it difficult and stressful for him - he sure as hell has made her life difficult and stressful.

“I’ll live up to them, don’t worry. I’ve got Mr. Cheer and Miss. Heavy-lifting to help me out.” Clint sticks his thumb out towards each of them.

Bobbi frowns, unsure of what to make of the name. Coulson doesn’t appear to have even noticed as he rummages through the box for some more decorations to hang up on the tree.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Natasha says.

She cradles the almost empty glass of milk in both hands, savouring the fading heat of the milk. Her insides twist uncomfortably as she looks down into the glass. Did her parents ever make her milk like this before the red room? Did they ever celebrate Christmas together as a family?

She purposely tries not to think about her family too much. The red room never told her anything about them. When she was younger she used to pretend she had memories of them tucking her into bed but she knows that’s not true - it was just a lie made up by her mind when she was scared and alone.

For all she knows they chose to send her to the red room.

She has no real family.

Whoever she used to have left her before she can remember and never came back for her.

However looking around at Clint’s goofy attire, Bobbi’s wide laugh and Coulson’s cheer she realises something: maybe S.H.I.E.L.D is her family now.

Maybe she’s not as alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are lots of spelling mistakes etc. I've been really ill today so this chapter probably isnt as good as it could've been.


	6. New Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas has arrived and Natasha, Clint and Bobbi are looking for trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any typos and mistakes you might find (I'm too tired to proof read and have a bit of homework to finish before college tomorrow). I welcome any constructive criticisms so feel free to share your opinions! I'm trying to improve my writing so any tips are helpful.

_25/12/2015, 04:45_  
  
"Psssst...Nat?" 

"I don't care if the world is ending, if you don't shut up and let me sleep I'll kick Clint Jr." Natasha grumbles, reluctant to open her eyes.

"Stop being lazy. I wanna show you something." 

"It's 4:45 in the morning - whatever it is can wait if you ever plan on having children." 

"How do you know what time it is?"

"You really have to ask? You should know by now that I know everything." She grabs the pillow and uses it to cover her head in an attempt block out Clint's dumb voice. What sane person willingly gets up at this time?

"Sure you do." He rolls his and sits down on the bed enthusiastically. He lands exactly on Natasha's stomach forcing her to sit up, winded. She breathe in deeply and shoves Clint off violently. He wobbles precariously on the edge of the bed but manages to catch himself before he drops unceremoniously onto the floor. 

"Have you been drinking coffee?" She moans, still half asleep.

"Of course! How else would I be awake at this time?" He asks, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. The smell makes her perk up instantly, craving anything to take off the edge of waking up.

"Fine you got me up. What is so important you felt the need to wake me up at this ungodly hour. You do know that people actually sleep at night and this is still technically night. You might like to get up early to flirt with your girlfriend but I like sleep." She says, cradling the mug and cautiously sipping it. She'd rather not start of the day with a burnt mouth.

"Firstly, Bobbi isn't my girlfriend. Secondly, we get up to train not flirt - I just so happen to be skilled at multitasking. And thirdly," He bends down and pulls a small package off of the floor next to the bed, "Merry Christmas." He grins lopsidedly.

She leaves him sat there holding it out to her as she finishes off the coffee. Once she's done she sets the mug down on the bedside table and takes the package from him cautiously

"This couldn't have waited?" She asks, slightly annoyed. Her hands fumble with the newspaper wrapping paper and the insane amount of tape keeping the paper on the package. It's impossible to figure out where to start since the entire thing is practically a ball of tape. After fumbling with the package in a desperate attempt to locate the end of the tape she resorts to more intense measures. She grabs her knife out from under her pillow and swiftly stabs the knife through the package.

"You can't do that! I spent so long taping that! Besides, everyone knows you don't stab presents." He looks horrified and moved to take the gift out of her hands but she pulls it away before he can get to it.

"I can tell. If you didn't want me to kill it you shouldn't have put so much tape on." She says confidently. Her knife catches into something in the package and she carefully lifts the knife up, hooking it onto the thing inside. A necklace with a small silver arrow is dangling for the knife, glinting slightly and spinning on the end of the knife.

"You like it?"

"It's an arrow." She raises her eyebrows

"I see how it is. If you don't like it I'll give it to Bobbi, she'll agree with how awesome a present it is." He pouts and darts forward with super speed to grab the necklace on the knife but Natasha is still faster and manages to get it out of his way so he swipes midair. She quickly clasps it around her neck and tucks it under her stolen AC/DC shirt so no one can see or swipe it. She has a reputation to maintain.

"It'll do." She raises her arms defensively over the necklace hidden beneath her shirt. Clint grins smugly and holds his hand out expectantly.

"What now?" She asks and gestures to his outstretched hand. 

"What about my present?" He points and shuffles closer to Natasha.

"I'm here aren't I?" 

"Come on Nat! I gave you such a thoughtful gift." He shuffles even closer, completely ignoring her need for personal space.

"I wouldn't call it thoughtful, you literally just said you could've used that as Bobbi's present." She rubs the necklace under the shirt.

"It's still something." He whines. Natasha's head begins aching from combined effort of Clint's squeaking and the lack of sleep.

"Fine, fine. Just please shut the fuck up." She shoves Clint off the bed fully this time, letting him topple down onto the cold floor. He scowls at her until he sees her hand reach under her pillow for the present.

"The great Black Widow, broken by a whining voice - oh how you have fallen." He grins, having seemingly forgotten the pain of his fall.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, you'd make a great torturer. I bet you could break everyone sooner or later." 

The present is wrapped neater than Clint's, in proper wrapping paper. The sides are neatly folded down and taped perfectly in straight lines. Compared to Clint's mess, her present has basically no tape. She went to a lot of effort to get the wrapping paper, although Coulson had been more than happy to help when she asked. 

She hands him the present and lies back down, pulling the covers over her head. From underneath the covers she can hear him opening it up. She silently prays that he'll just leave once he's opened the present but she knows him too well to truly believe that. The boy can never stop talking. She's surprised he's made it this long in a top secret spy organisation.

"Ohhh, a knife. Are you sure you want to arm me for close combat? That's your speciality, aren't you scared I'll show you up?" He coo's annoyingly. She can't remember why she puts up with him. What are his redeeming features again?

"You wish. There is no chance you'll ever be on the same level as me, Котенок." She smiles under the covers, imagining Clint's pouting. She knows how much he hates her calling him names Russian, especially cute little ones like Kitten. He _is_ a little kitten though. He's the kind that trips over it's oversized feet and tries to kill you by latching onto your wrist and scratching you with it's mini baby kitten claws.

"You underestimates my talents, Romanoff."

"I'm an ex-assassin, Котенок, I was trained to assess people's abilities before you had even seen a bow. I'm going to stand by my assessment on this one." 

"Fine then, I don't need to hear this abuse." He grumbles. Natasha hears him get up and leave the room. Just before he goes through the door she sits up from under her covers and calls out to him.

"Wait, Clint! I forgot to give you something." She slips out of her bed and walks over to him where he stands as curious and excited as a child. She puts both hands on his shoulders and stares seriously into his eye. He creases his brow and looks around warily. As his eyes meet hers she raises her leg and knees him directly in his junk. She released his shoulders and leave him bent over in agony.

"What was that for?!" He whines as she gets back into her bed and curls up in a little ball.

The warmth of the bed is a comforting relief from the brisk morning air of the unheated academy. She decides that she's going to stay in here as long as she can get away with it. It's Christmas, she deserves to hide away all day.

"I told you: you wake me up this early and Clint Jr. feels it." She states, closing her eyes tightly and blocking out the world.

"You're a horrible person."

"I know." She grins cheekily, hidden from view.

From her sheltered fort under the covers, she hears Clint hobble out of the room to go visit Bobbi for their daily training. Apparently having the entire facility almost to themselves doesn't change the pairs routine. They could wake up at a decent time but Bobbi doesn't seem to know what a decent time is. Natasha is surprised Clint keeps waking up so early when he doesn't need to.

She pulls the arrow out from under her shirt and rubs it between her fingers thoughtfully. Thinking about it, the necklace is the only possession she has right now that is truly hers. All her other things are stolen or provided by SHIELD as a part of the dormitory. There's no need to explain her lack of possessions when she was in the red room. Any life before then is lost to lost her. Small flashes of memories still exist like the colour of her mothers hair but they belong to a different girl now.

She tucks it back underneath her shirt and curls up on her side again, smothered by the covers. Her fingers stroke the gun underneath her pillow for reassurance. The cold metal grounds her, reminding her of the cuffs she is missing. Her wrist aches without the pressure of the metal chaining her down. Despite it being months since she last used the cuffs she still feels their absence like an open wound. 

Sleep avoids her like the plague as she tries to bury her face in the pillow. She silently curses Clint for waking her up. Instead she lays in the darkness, trying to calm down her racing heart.

  
~~~

  
_25/12/2015, 07:23_

"You feeling sleepy, Barton?" Bobbi laughs warmly, her face glistening with a thin layer of sweat. If it wasn't for the slight hint of a pant and the glistening it would be impossible she was tired. Somehow she's managed to stay smiling and bouncing off the walls despite the hours of sparring they'd just done. Even after all these weeks, Clint still can believe her endurance.

"Heck yeah I am! We've been at it for hours." He pants, bent over attempting to catch his breath.

Outside the window there is a thin layer of snow and small flakes drifting down peacefully, but Clint feels like he's burning up despite the light chill. All the snow is untouched, not a single foot print disturbing the peace. Everyone has left for the holiday to go back to their families and all the people with families clearly haven't yet dared leave the academy to see the snow. 

"You've been fighting pathetically all morning." She bends down and raises her fists, ready to take him on again. He isn't sure how much more of this he can take. 

"Lay off, Nat kicked my precious jewels." He grumbles. Somehow his nether regions still ache slightly from the beating they received from Natasha earlier.

He sits down and rests his head on his knees. He can hear his heart pounding in his head and feel the throbbing of his pulsing blood. Every part of his body aches and his muscles are raw. Bruises and cuts are scattered around his body from her special stick-stave-baton things. No matter what he calls them he always manages to get it wrong.

"How long are you planning on using that as an excuse?" 

"As long as I can." He rubs the newly formed bruises and the older yellowing ones, "You really don't lay off with the super strength you know." 

"Complaining as usual. I thought you said you could take me, Barton. Where did all that bravado go?" He curses her damn powers. Why can't he get some awesome powers that make him into a super soldier? He'd make a _great_ super solider.

"I can take you - trust me. Right now I need food and rest though. I'll beat your arse tomorrow, Morse." He chuckles drily and drawing in a rough breath. 

Bobbi walks over to him, scarily quiet. She carefully lays her sticks on the floor and holds her hand out to Clint in a gesture of good will. He takes it gladly and allows her to help him up. Once he's on two feet he brushes himself off and wipes the blood away from the corner of his mouth.

"Breakfast?" He asks as he inspects the blood on the back of his hand.

"Shower." Bobbi crinkles her nose up as she catches the gross mix of sweat and blood coming off of Clint.

"Fine, shower and then food." He rests his hands lovingly on his stomach which groans loudly in protest. 

Together the two leave the training room and head towards the showers. Bobbi picks up her sticks as they leave and begins twirling them in her hands with remarkable control. Jealousy writhes up inside of him at the sight of it. Since coming to SHIELD her had no time to use his bow. All the training has been hand to hand or with close range weapons like Bobbi's sticks. Without his bow by his side he feels exposed and vulnerable.

"What's got you so down in the dumps, hotshot?" Bobbi asks with a gentle nudge of her elbow. Both sticks are tucked neatly under her other arm. They knock together harshly they trundle down the seemingly endless corridors of the academy to the changing rooms and a hot shower.

"My bow. I miss actually being good at something."

He pulls the knife Natasha got for him out of the small bag he room into the training room. It's a pretty little thing, not the sort of thing he'd imagine Natasha buying. The new metal glints dangerously, even under the newly risen winter sun. It is minimalistic yet elegant. He'll make sure he remembers to stick it in Bobbi's thigh the next time she beats him five ways to Sunday. Even a girl with super soldier powers and fast healing will be slowed down with one of these stuck in her leg.

"Being amazing in one thing isn't good enough here. What are you planning on doing if you need to fight in close quarters of it you run out of arrows? Can't have that pretty face being cut up and staining your ridiculous spandex." She laughs and takes out her sticks again, juggling them precariously.

"I'll have you know, my spandex isn't ridiculous and the purple brings out the colour of my eyes." He bats his eyelids daintily. He grins widely to flash each and every one of his teeth.

"So you keep saying but I'm not seeing any proof." She chuckles just as they reach the changing rooms.

Without she saying goodbye she slips into the changing rooms, leaving Clint alone in the corridor.

He groans and walks reluctantly into the barren changing room. His clothes are hanging from a nearby hook, waiting to be put on.

Without even sitting down for a rest, he hops into the shower. The scalding water is oddly refreshing. You can say what you want about the academy but you can't claim that the showers are anything short of magnificent. None of the hotels him and Natasha stayed in had such nice showers. In fact the only shower he's ever been in that's better is Edwin and Ana's shower. Rich people have the best showers.

As the fresh water rolls down his body he examines today's injuries. Bruises, new and old, stain his skin a inky, blotchy colour. Each bruise appears to be a different colour, varying from green to red to deep purple or blue. The mosaic of colour is familiar and reassuring. Since they're only using Bobbi's sticks or fists, there is minimal bleeding which is one less thing to worry about.

After a couple of minutes Clint turns off the shower reluctantly. If he takes too long Bobbi might just kick the door down and drag him out to the canteen before he's fully dressed.

Hungry Bobbi is an unhappy Bobbi.

He roughly pulls on his shirt and trouser, not bothering to be gentle or sensitive when it comes to the bruises. His clothes are creased and stained but he's too tired and hungry to try and find a different shirt in his bag so he walks out of the changing room looking just a messy as he did going in.

Naturally, Bobbi is already outside the changing rooms - playing one of her many assortments of games on her phone as she rests against the wall casually. Her hair is knotted in a bun above her head and is still wet. She has swapped her sweaty sports bra for a red sports tank top and her specially designed sports shorts for casual black leggings. If he didn't know her any better he would think that she was leaving to go training.

As he approaches her she begins walking, leading the way to the canteen. She refused to look up from the game and remains fully engrossed in her own little world. With remarkable grace she manages to dodge every obstacle in her path without taking her eyes off the phone. In fact she only looks up as they enter the dining room and the smell of food beckons her. 

He heaps his plate full of pancakes and bacon before taking his seat next to Natasha. Bobbi joins them soon after, her plate covered in every food on offer. She might be amped up on go-go juice but Clint can't imagine even Captain America guzzled as much food as Bobbi does. 

"How was training?" Natasha asks once she's finished her mouthful of food.

Beneath her vest is the necklace Clint gave her that morning. It's tucked away, almost completely out of view from prying eyes.

"I whooped his arse again." Bobbi smirks between mouthfuls. 

"Nothing new then." Natasha laughs.

"Ha ha ha, very funny. Its not a fair fight when one person has the power of a super soldier and the other is a normal human without their primary weapon." Clint huffs. His cheeks are tinted slightly red as he plays with the food on his plate.

"You should work on other weapons more then - You might not always have a bow to hand." Bobbi gives him her best motherly look as she lectures him.

Before Clint can respond, a familiar face appears at the head of their table. Coulson is dressed up formally in a suit (as always), holding a cardboard box filled with something labelled 'highly volatile'. If you ask him labels like that are just asking to be played with. Who can resist that kind of challenge?

"Nice to see you all up so early." He smiles happily (Clint wonders whether the man has ever frowned in his life). 

"You can blame Clint for that." Natasha grumbles, playing with her pancakes. There's another mug of coffee in front of her, the one from earlier that morning clearly not enough for the sleepy assassin.

"I'm sure he had the best intentions."

"Sure he did. He was just impatient as always." Clint scowls at Natasha making her stick her tongue out at him. 

"Clint never stopped being that child who wakes their parents up before the sun rise on Christmas day." Bobbi snorts, pausing the inhalation of her breakfast to speak. Basically none of her breakfast is left compared to Clint's which has barely even been started.

"At least there are no queue's for food since everyone has gone home for Christmas." Coulson readjusts the box in his hands, keeping it as flat and balanced as physically possible. 

Sure enough, the canteen is mostly empty with everyone away. Since the Christmas holidays they've had the facilities to themselves. He supposes that there are some perks to being orphaned. Coulson has taken it upon himself to visit us everyday since they've been alone as if he could step in as the family none of them have.

He never worked up the courage to ask what happened to Bobbi's family - some things are better left private. It's nice to have her company though. If she'd left with all the others he would've most likely stayed in bed all day everyday - their training sessions are the only thing that get him out of bed in the mornings most days.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company today, sir?" Natasha asks. She gulps down her coffee, taking a break from her food. She closes her eyes happily as she drinks, more relaxed than normal.

"The science and technology academy needed help moving some of the students research projects into the storage rooms here ready for use. We've almost finished now." He gestures as gently as he can to the box in his arms. Something clatters inside the box menacingly at the movement causing a flicker a worry to cross his face.

"Will we get to use any of it?" Bobbi asks politely. Her eyes have lit up and she's biting the bottom of her lip, not wanting to let herself hope.

"Maybe one day - mostly for mission use though, not for training." He says, distracted, "I should probably take this to storage - we don't want any explosions this early in the morning." He chuckles nervously.

"Good to see you, sir. Enjoy your Christmas." Bobbi smiles at Coulson. 

"Thanks, you too." He grins and waves to them all. Clint and Natasha resign themselves to curt nods, their mouths stuffed with the cooling food.

Coulson walks away quickly, not daring to run while holding the box. He slowly fades away into the back ground, heading not towards the elevator but to the corridor leading to the other classrooms.

Most of the storage rooms are held well below the academy in sealed, heavily fortified rooms. No one want's to risk a malfunction of a device destroying the building. However if Coulson is putting the box in a storage room up here then it must have less security. More accessible. A dark plan begins forming in his head.

"So there is new tech here? They haven't taken it down to the bunker..." He says, suggestively, catching Natasha's eyes. Her face is blank and emotionless but he can tell she's thinking the same thing as him.

For months Clint has wanted to get his hands on some of the tech they make in the academy across the campus. He's seen some of the weapons being used in the training room and the variety of devices used for undercover missions but director Fury still hadn't given him or Natasha clearance for any of them. Sure the science and tech students might be nerds but their weapons are nothing to scoff at. They're top of the range and can cause all sorts of damage. Not all of them are weapons either - some are gadgets. Clint is willing to bet they have a bow and arrow hidden somewhere in those boxes.

"You know just as well as I do that neither of you have clearance for those." Disapproval lines Bobbi's voice as she looks between Clint and Natasha.

"Yeah, yeah - just because she's a Russian assassin and I'm a dashing circus runaway." Clint rolls his eyes but maintains his slight smirk.

"There's no way I am helping you break into the storage rooms so you can play with the big boy toys."

  
~~~

_25/12/2015, 11:34_

  
"Fury is going to kill us you know." Bobbi grumbles under her breath as they creep down the silent corridor together.

"Awww, Bob - It's Christmas: embrace the Christmas spirit for once." She scowls and hits his crotch with one of her sticks. Clint doubles over and bites down on his fist to stop himself from crying out. Twice in one day - he must be doing something wrong with the ladies.

"Shut up Clint - top secret infiltration under way. No one wants to deal with your drama." Natasha smirks and high fives Bobbi way too enthusiastically.

Bobbi waves her hand to signal that the path is clear. Natasha walks past her taking the lead. Next Clint hobbles along, still seething and very much in pain. Bobbi holds up the rear, twirling her sticks around threateningly as they tiptoe down the corridor. 

"I can't believe you talked me into this!" Bobbi hisses as they creep down the abandoned corridor to the only storage room above he ground (except Coulson's dusty one). 

"You didn't need convincing - who doesn't want to play with the new toys." Natasha grins mischievously.

"This better be worth it." Clint makes a note that she doesn't deny anything. She might pretend to be a rule follower, the older sister, but she's just as conniving as us. Fury's golden girl no longer.

Natasha stops and signals to Bobbi to stand guard and listen out for any of the guards as they arrive at the door to the storage room. She moves out the way of the door to open the way for the limping Clint. He bends down so he's level with the lock on the door. He pulls the bobby pin out of his hair and starts getting to work on the lock. 

"I wondered why you have that in your hair." Natasha mutters.

"Nah, this is for fashion but I guess it can have two uses." He grins, keeping most of his focus on the locked door. After a bit of fumbling with the lock it clicks open so Natasha can open the door for them.

Just as he steps back from the door he notices Natasha holding a ring of keys in her hand. She's got one hand on her hip and the other holding a key from the ring with a tag reading "storage" attached to it.

"You had the keys all along?" He hisses.

"Course, the guard handed them over when I asked nicely."

"Asked nicely?" Clint's eyes are wide, his jaw hanging open. 'Asking nicely' could be anything except actually asking nicely when she says it.

"He'll be fine - he won't even remember anything." She says, rolling her eyes.

"You're impossible."

"I was just trying to make things easier." She says defensively, crossing her arms.

"Why didn't you give them to me then?"

"Because it was funny to see you fiddling around with your little bobby pin. Besides, I also took these keys for myself - you never know when a ring of keys can come in handy. I'm sure I'll find a use for them." She grins, waving for Bobbi to come over.

"Age before beauty." Natasha says as Clint dashes past her into the storage room. He flings her an irritated look but is too distracted by the tech to reply.

Bobbi and Clint file into the room quickly with Natasha coming in last. She checks the corridor is clear before closing the door behind them and flicking on the lights. The fluorescent overhead lights flicker and illuminated the cramped space. The room has been stuffed with box upon box of new devices made by the other students. Each box is labelled with obscure and enticing names.

Primarily, Clint wants to find the box Coulson had earlier. He won't be able to leave happily without finding out what it was and possibly playing with it. All the names keep distracting him though. All of them fighting for his attention.

Clint opens the box closest to him, filled with devices for undercover work. One of the devices is a lock pick disguised as a pen. He clicks it absent mindedly, seeing the lock pick device pop out where the nib would normally be.

"Getting in here would've been much easier with one of these." Natasha takes the lock pick out of his hand and admires the craftsmanship. 

"You know what else would've been easier? Keys!" He growls, trying to steal the keys from Natasha. She clearly can't be trusted with them. She dodges Clint's reaching hand easily side stepping and letting his hand grasp at thin air.

"Then what use would we have had for you." Natasha asks, rooting through a box filled with guns.

Clint reseals his box and decides to peak into Natasha's box instead. He instantly pulls out one of the guns with the prettiest and sleekest design. it's very compact and light. Perfectly balance. Like all of the other guns, it's name is carved into the barrel. 

"What sort of name is _the night night gun_?" He looks down the barrel of the gun, pretending to aim at Bobbi. 

"Look, I found the arrow boxes." Bobbi shouts out to Clint as she scans the boxes for anything interest. 

Clint quickly drops the night night gun back in the box and rushes over to admire all the arrows. There are several boxes stacked in top of each other. In fact there are four stacks of the boxes - each box filled with a different kind of arrow. Everything from electricity to ice arrows. There's even a jelly arrow (who knows what that does). 

"What sort of situations are these people expecting us to get into." Clint asks, examining one of the jelly arrows. The point is rounded unlike normal arrows and the metal feels thin and fragile, like something is trying to burst out of it. Somehow, despite how unbalanced it looks, the arrow feels light and extremely well balanced. Much better quality than all the ones he's used to using. Imagine how well he'd be able to shoot with one of these! 

The relaxed murmurs of the others suddenly did away as the door swings open quietly. Clint heart stops suddenly, unsure whether he's been spotted. He quickly snatches up a handful of the arrows and slips them into his boots. They cut into his foot and stick out over the top of the boot so he hurriedly pulls up his trouser leg to cover the arrows as best he can. He's prays that none of the arrows are dangerous in enclosed areas.

"Well, well, I expected more of you Morse." Fury's voice calls out from behind the shelves. Clint holds his breath and attempts to seal the boxes as quietly as he can.

"You can leave - I have more important shit to deal with right now." Clint hears Bobbi's feet start to move swiftly and near silently, like a breeze through the storage room.

"We will be talking about this at some point though." Fury says threatening before the door can close.

After that the door closes and the three of them are left alone in the room. Even now, Clint refuses to let him take a breath in for fear of making Fury aware of his presence.

After all he's been through, all the nights he spent hiding under the covers not daring to make a sound of even sleep and the lonely days he spent in alleyways with only his brother for company while they ran from place to place - but this time it was different. This time it was him who was in the wrong. It was his fault. His choice. However he wasn't scared for himself this time. 

"Come with me Romanoff." Fury says, Natasha's undaunted - if not slightly ashamed - steps leaving the room, "You too, Barton."

~~~

_25/12/2015, 11:50_

"So...do either of you want to explain what you were doing?" He asks as they arrive in a room Natasha has never been in before. 

During her time at the red room she had been called into the Matrons room many times. She knew the procedure but she couldn't resist the need to scan the room quickly for anything to protect herself if the need be or anything that could be used against her. Looking for any whips Fury could use on her.

He stood, leaned against the desk as always. Why do they even bother putting chairs behind the desks of people only ever stood in front of them? Unlike the Matrons, the curling and gripping of his fingers on the desk wasn't hidden. His clenched hands and creased brow weren't hidden either. Somehow, standing here now, she could see the scarred skin near his eye patch and the creases on his brow much clearer, despite the distance between them. Now the desk looked more like a support - a prop - than anything else.

"It was my idea." Clint was bowed ever so slightly so his eyes didn't meet Fury's and instead stayed looking at the floor.

There's a slight edge to his face so from where she stood it looked like he too was gritting his teeth.

Pure instincts made her scan him up and down, drinking in all the details she could. His trouser legs were untucked from his boots, trailing down so they dragged on the floor ever so slightly. Rule one of being stealthy was to tuck trousers like that into your boots - Natasha had never seen him leave trousers untucked like that when they were sneaking around, she would know. As much as Natasha likes to call Clint stupid, he survived well for years before he met Natasha - as much as he relied on her for backup, she relied on him. When she looked closer at his trousers she noticed the slight raise in the material near the top of the boot. Something had been hastily shoved into his boots.

"I wanted to see the new gear. You never let me or Nat near anything in the academy - you keep us here like prisoners! We haven't touched a single weapon since we stepped through these doors, heck you gave us both plastic cutlery for the first week here - bad choice by the way, Nat is way more dangerous when to give her plastic that can be broken into sharp shards."

After everything she'd done, everything they'd done, what Fury had given them was a gift. The best case scenario if you will. The plastic cutlery had almost felt like a compliment, not that she needed cutlery to hurt someone. If she'd really wanted a weapon she could've taken someone else's cutlery but the plastic cutlery was a more useful weapon anyway. She couldn't understand where this outburst was coming from. 

"You didn't exactly come in here with the best set of recommendations. How can we trust either of you with weapons or around the other students with your past. What have you done to prove yourselves?"

"Nothing!" They room went silent suddenly, a rift opening up between them all, "We've don't nothing. You've never given us a chance to. I train every morning at the crack of dawn with your pet super soldier weaponless and powerless and I go to bed studying all your overly complicated methods of espionage and I've still done nothing that can make anyone trust me. Neither of us have had a chance to prove ourselves to anyone here, and until we do we won't fit in here. No one will trust us."

It wasn't hard to see how much effort Clint had been putting into everything here. It took something important to make someone get up and train every day. In fact it was the lack of the need to train that she had embraced since becoming Natasha.

"It's a good thing that I'm giving you your chance now then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's New Years were good, any interesting resolutions? I've decided I want to get into writing more since I hardly wrote this year. Perhaps when I finish my private project I'll begin updating more frequently but I'll have to keep you updated on that.


	7. Roxxon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint go on their first mission outside of the S.H.E.I.L.D academy walls

_09:45, 15/01/2016_

  
Sunlight streams through the coaches windows and blinds Clint. Skyscrapers elongated glass windows reflect the harsh sun and amplify it's brightness. He attempts to shade his eyes by burying his face in the crook of his arm. All his limbs ache and complain as he stretches up slightly - begging for a chance to move around. Wearing the ill fitting sweaty shirt and khakis don't help loosen the tension in his back and sore muscles. Maybe the drive wouldn't have been so painful if he'd been given less restricting clothes that didn't smell like lavender and yeast.

Clint turns to Natasha, he head buried in an engineering book that he had no idea if she understood. Instead of having her hair down like she usually does, her hair had been tied up in a scruffy bun on the top of her head. Small strands of hair had escaped the bun and were tickling the edges of her face, each strand lighting up a different shade of gold or brown in rays of the sun.

They'd tried to make her stand out less by giving her a pair of unassuming thick rimmed glasses. Normally be would be scoffed at the idea of someone's appearance changing because of something like glasses. In comic books people can put on a pair of glasses and suddenly change into completely different person, a ridiculous concept but one Natasha had some how managed to pull off. As soon as she'd out on the glasses it was like Natasha Romanoff had disappeared and Natalie Rushman had been reborn.

Her normally confident and battle hardened appearance had been swapped in favour of a timid, approachable girl who's eyes light up as she reads. Her normally pristine guard seemingly dropped to make way naive girl with a habit of chewing her nails and avoiding eye contact. She'd even chosen the window seat, using him as a buffer between her and all the other passengers on the coach.

"Why is the drive so long! We've still got five minutes left until we are able to move." Clint whines, headbutting her shoulder gently. She reaches up a gentle hand and rubs his back in a motherly fashion. Against every instinct, he stays where he is, allowing her hand to remain in his back as she attempts to soothe him.

"Hey, it's okay - You can hang on for a few more minutes." She whispers into his ear and rests her head on his. He feels her mouth moving as she silently attempts to explain the situation in a normal way to some nosy passengers.

Clint's hair stands in end, his stomach knotting up apprehensively. Just like before a fight, his leg starts to feel jumpy and his arms tingle. Goosebumps have suddenly sprouted on his back in every place that Natasha - no, Natalie's - hand touches. The coach and the people within seem to have faced away, leaving him alone and stranded in the spiders web without him even realising it. One look in her eyes revealed nothing - no mal-intent, no killer instincts - but that pit, that tension was there, just like if you walked into a cave full of lions. 

"Hey, Alex - are you okay, do you think you can stand?" Natalie's hand moves from his back as the coach comes to a stop. The goosebumps fade away with the cold feeling of her fingers on his back but that pit still remains - eating a hole in him. 

"I'm okay." He smiles weakly and nods slowly.

"Travel sickness is the worst." She flashes a sympathetic smile before turning away. While everyone else is beginning to move off of the coach she packs up the huge over-full backpack. She does her best to squish in her book and the empty water bottle Clint had downed within the first ten minutes getting onto the coach but they refuse to go in. She hands the water bottle to Clint and sticks the book under one arm.

Unlike Natalie, he didn't bring a variety of stuff so his bag was considerably lighter than the huge bag she'd brought. Neither of them were to be trusted with any of the gadgets yet (courtesy of their Christmas day escapades). It seems Fury had faith in them to procure any items necessary for their mission on the day. The only thing they were given was the backpacks they had and a few bottles of water and pack lunches. As usual the higher ups were throwing them under the bus to see if they were of any use to them. God Clint hated these spies. What gave them the right to use kids like this?

Fortunately, Clint wasn't the only one with some slight of hand. Bobbi had given him a small yo-yo with sharp, razor wire and a pulley mechanism to use of they needed to climb up buildings or whatever else the mission might require. After much persuasion and the promise of almond cookies, he'd managed to get her to part with her freeze ray which she'd also somehow stolen from the storage room. The thing was as big as his arm and currently disguised as a baseball bat so Clint had no idea how she'd smuggled that past Fury. He hadn't quite decided if he was suicidal or smart by befriending Bobbi and Natasha.

She'd also stolen things that they had yet to discover the purpose of like a pack of bubble gum, a phone and a bottle of what appears to be cologne but with several worrying crosses on the back and a small mushroom cloud - they weren't entirely sure if that cloud would be so tiny when actually produced. Neither of them could figure out how to make the gadgets work despite the hours of messing around in the cafeteria, labs and Clint's room (because apparently it okay to possibly produce an atomic bomb in his room but not hers).

Not wanting to spend another second enclosed in the bus, Clint makes his dash towards freedom. He casually swings the backpack onto his back, ignoring Natalie's huffing and puffing as she hauls her bag along.

"Alex..." Natalie whines from behind him. He turns around to see her pouting face as she struggles with the monster of a bag. She's still got her book under her free arm while the other hand holds the bag that's dragging her down, "Can you carry my bag for me." She flashes her softest, biggest puppy eyes and holds the bag out shyly. There's a flicker of mischief behind the shyness and devilry behind her innocence.

"Will you leave me alone if you take it?" Clint sighs, his feet itching to leave. Natalie grins and hands him the bag. When he takes it, she slings her arm around his waist and gives him a light squeeze. Her eyes shine brightly from behind the glasses.

"Whatever. Can we just leave?" She lets go and allows him to leave the coach first to avoid an even more grouchy Clint.

As soon as his feet hit the ground he breathes in the fresh air. Her almost lies down and hugs the ground out of fear of being dragged back into the coach. His relief must be visible due to the slight giggle emitted by Natalie. After the sweaty humid air of the coach the polluted, smokey air of the city is like a breath of country air.

"There." Natalie prods his side and points at a lady holding a sign with, Rushman, the surname they were assigned printed onto it. Suddenly his stomach drops out of his body at the thought of another car, coach or train. 

"Please don't say we have to get onto another death trap! We have barely just gotten off the last one. Can't we just have a bit of time to stretch?!" He leans back dramatically, looking up into the sky as if to plead with whatever god is out there.

"Come on." She rolls her eyes and walks towards the lady with the sign. Despite all his protests, Clint follows behind - forever the diligent sheep.

"Natalie and Alex Rushman." Natalie introduced them to the lady. She uses her free hand to run the sides of her arm subtly. She throws a cautionary glare towards Clint and shimmies towards him slightly. 

"Ah, yes. This way, Mr and Miss Rushman." She begins walking off, pausing sporadically to check that they're still following. Clint runs up towards her as they walk, the two bags still hitting him as he jogs along.

"How are we planning on travelling?" He asks. The woman has freakishly long legs, and despite hanging around Bobbi and training every day - Clint finds himself almost needing to run to keep at her side. Somehow Natalie manages to match the pace while casually reading her book. 

"It's not far, were just going to walk. Calling a taxi would be slower than walking." With the pace she's keeping he doesn't doubt it. The clip of her heels on the road makes a rhythmic, yet somehow stressful, song. By comparison, Natalie's footsteps are practically nonexistent, a ghost of a girl. The turning of each page alone signifies are lasting presence. 

Clint falls out of step with the woman and allows himself to walk side by side with Natalie. She keeps needing to swerve at the last second to avoid bumping into people and ye she doesn't once look up from her book. It's as if she doesn't notice the sharp sudden movements she's making. Only the arrival at the Roxxon building seems to wake her up.

As they walk up Clint nudges her slightly, pulling her eyes away from the book to her surroundings for a second. That brief glimpse of the towering building ahead causes her to put down the book to properly examine the place. 

It's instantly clear why SHIELD needed them. The place is surrounded by a huge barbed wire that's almost certainly electrocuted judging by the huge electrical wires raising up one of the poles. Cameras are on literally every part of the building. A couple are clearly visible but others are hidden slightly or almost completely invisible in the shadows. Guards patrol the building decked out with guns and readers and all sorts of other weapons that Clint would love to get his hands on right about now. If it wasn't for this chance to explore under the guise of competition winners, infiltrating this place could takes years of undercover work that SHIELD couldn't afford.

Long missions were expensive and generally not worth it. Often it's too late to achieve whatever goal you're aiming for by the time you've successfully risen up the ranks. Besides, who's going to expect two kids working for a spy organisation? 

"Wow, this place is amazing." Natalie's mouth hangs open and she hands Clint her book. Without thinking, he takes it from her - dejectedly accepting his role as the donkey. She starts skipping towards the building, bobbing up and down with the movement. She breaks into a smile a mutters something really fast under her breath - as if reciting something from memory.

"Yeah...I guess?" Clint mumbles - put out by the heavy bags and long drive he's had to endure.

"Your brother isn't fond of this stuff?" The lady asks, looking at Natalie instead of Clint.

"Would you be?" He huffs, gesturing to the book at the bags. His dishevelled appearance and twitchy demeanour only back up his claim, "Our parents wouldn't let her go on her own." She frowns slightly and looks him over quickly, but any suspicion she was harbouring before has dissipated.

Angling her body so neither of the pair can see, she starts to type the code into the gate. As Natalie looks around, her eyes wide, Clint peers down at the she had handed him. Hidden almost completely from view of everyone, is a small mirror, hardly more than a slit along the spine. He quickly angles the book so that the thin shard catches her movements as she pressed each of the buttons. After years of training in the circus, catching the slight movements through the share is a piece of cake. 248903. He makes a mental note of the number and carefully pulls the thin shard off of the spine, slipping it into his sleeve.

While they wait for the gate to open he bends down to the bus laces up, letting the shard silently slip out of his sleeve and fall to the floor. No doubt the guards will check them over and put them through a metal detector before they enter the building. Having a piece of mirror taped to the spine of a book isn't particularly easy to explain.

Natalie kicks him lazily, only half paying attention to him. Without even waiting for him to finish she follows the lady into the facility, leaving him bent over on the floor with the bags slipping further off his shoulders with every second. Hastily tying his laces, he begins hopping after them, attempting feebly to nudge the bags back into his shoulders before they slip off all together. Before they get too far away, he abandons all hope of thing his laces to instead run after them. 

The guards part warily as they approach, letting them in through the huge glass doors that look out of place amongst the chimneys, smoke and concrete. As they enter Clint realises it isn't just the door that's out of place. The entire lobby of Roxxon looks more like a five star hotel than an energy company. White furniture and soft couches line the walls along with delicate paintings that are either abstract or done by a small child.

People are gathered in the couches, muttering feverishly to one another. There aren't as many as Clint thought there would be - only around fifteen or so clustered together. He supposes that must be what they're waiting for.

In the back of his mind he can hear the lady saying something to both of them but he's too tired to bother even pretending to listen anymore. Bee-lining for a space on one of the couches along the side, Clint pulls ahead of Natalie and the lady - Natalie can take one for the team this time and listen to whatever it is she has to say. As soon as he reaches the chair he slumps back and let's the bags fall off his shoulder onto the floor. Whoever was next to him shifts away slightly giving him more space to spread out. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, basking in the bliss of the cool air conditioned room.

The academy could take some tips from this place. Considering how much money the facility must have they never seem to invest in air conditioning in the rooms. Despite it being unnecessary in the winter no one wants to sit in a stuffy room after hours of training.

Natalie stalks over as a couple of new people enter the room, looking considerably happier than Clint feels right now. She pushes fanned out arms out of the way and sits down beside him, pushing him slightly to make room for herself. When Clint had chucked the stuff on the floor her book had fallen open on the floor, much to Natalie's dismay. She bends down and picks up the book as gently as if it were her child. She throws him a dirty look and opens the book, purposely blocking him out with an obvious book blockade.

"You know, it's rude to walk away when people are talking to you." She mutters. 

"It's also rude to dump your bag on your brother like he's nothing more than a common mule." He closes his eyes again, watching the specs of light dance around on his eyelids. 

"Apparently they're waiting for a couple more people so we'll have to wait here until they arrive. " She adds quietly after a few beats of silence.

Her book pages have stopped rustling in favour of an uneasy silence. Silence was common between them, even Clint ran out of things to say eventually, but it had always been comfortable.

Neither of them were really sure how they'd gotten here. No more than a couple of months ago they'd been living off of pick pocketed money, jumping from building to building - now they were here on a mission from SHIELD. Once he only would've dreamed of being a secret agent - infiltrating enemy bases to save the world but that boy has been beaten into submission. He bled out in the family basement and was set alight on the field where his brother left him. These last months it had been easy to forget who and where he was but here, on this mission it felt real. For the first time in his life he was doing something good - something meaningful. 

"I'm going to run to the the toilet quickly. Hold my book." She hands him the book without even waiting for him to respond. She pats his side as she gets up and slinks off to the toilet shyly.

Once she's out of sight he brings his hand to his pocket, feeling the emptiness of where his phone is supposed to be. She must have been successful in getting his phone without drawing attention to herself.

Half expecting the alarm to be raised any second, Clint leans back and relaxes. Looking tense and nervous would help Nat now. She knows what she needs to do and the rest of the group will be here soon.

People around Clint won't shut up for a single second and yet it feels oddly quiet. All the guards and workers are stood nervously at all the entrances. None of them dare to talk or even look at one another. Every eye is fixed on the group of them gathered by the couches. Good little soldiers.

With his eyes still half closed he counts the guards he can see watching the group. There are fifteen in total, each with several guns glued to them. A couple have their fingers itching the edges of the triggers. It's as if they haven't realised most of these people are teenagers not terrorists. More like a battle field than an energy company.

Just as a suited man enters the room, commanding silence, Natalie reenters. She quietly slips next to him, not daring to break the sudden silence that's settled in the room. As she takes the book out of his hand she slips the phone back into his pocket and gives him a small nod. 

"Hello everyone, and welcome to Roxxon. " Clint jolts upright, blinking away the blinding brightness of the industrial lights. He turns to Natasha to see her facing away, the book open once again as the suited man begins to address them. I nudge her gently, making her look up from her book to pay attention to the man ahead of them. She sighs slightly but doesn't return to her book.

"You are here today for a tour of the facilities here, congratulations all on the competition." He gives them a cold, disinterested smile that reminds him too much of his old ringmaster "You'll have to excuse us, but as we go in we'll have to do a few quick security checks since this is a high security facility." He loses his smile and gestures down the seemingly endless corridor, "if you'll follow me."

Everyone rises as he begins to strut down the corridor. Reluctantly, Clint picks up the bags and slings both across his back. Natalie is bouncing on the balls of her feet, biting the inside of her cheek. Her eyes sparkle where Clint's roll. He trails behind at the back of the group with Natalie a few steps ahead. 

As a group, they cautiously follow the man down the corridor into the heart of the facility. Their footsteps are loud enough to drown out the echo through the corridor. He lets his eyes rake the area they walk through - searching for anything that could be of use: a vent or a weapon or unguarded door. He takes a note of all the cameras and tries to build a mental map of the building they are leading them through. Even though Natalie will be creating her own mental image, it can't hurt for him to be aware as well. Only relying on others is asking for trouble.

He's so wrapped up in his assessment of the area, that he doesn't realise they've arrived at the security gates. Two huge machines, much like the ones at airports, are posted in the centre of the corridor. Many of the guards Clint spotted in the foyer are he posted here, having followed them here.

All the others ahead of Clint start going through the gates, leaving their bags on the belt beside the machine. A stout man is sat behind the machines, checking their bags over through the display.

Natalie, having given the bags to Clint, quickly darts through the gates, paying no attention to bag machine. Clint is given the job of hauling all the onto the machine. His heart pounds conspicuously. Despite knowing others can't hear the pounding, his mind still faces as the guard eyes him. There's still the overwhelming urge to meet the guards eyes and force him to back down. Maybe he'll never lose the need to stand his ground but now is not the time to indulge it. Reluctantly he lets his eyes move away from the guard submissively as he moves to the gate.

Just before he steps through the gate, the lady holds a hand out to stop him. It's the same lady who took them to the building from the coach. 

"Your phone." She says harshly - holding her hand out patiently. He sticks his hand inside his pocket, searching for the phone Natalie had slipped into his pocket. His fingers quickly make contact with the cold surface of the phone. The bubble gum and yo-yo bump into his hand as he moves to pulls out the phone. His heart hammers angrily, remembering the freeze ray and cologne in his bag. Knowing S.H.I.E.L.D the gadgets probably won't alert any of the machines but his mind refuses to stop whirling.

Silently shaking his head to dismiss the thoughts he pulls out the phone to hand to the lady. She takes it silently and drops the phone into a box with all the others. Her eyes don't linger questioningly which is a reassurance but he can't stop mentally chiding himself for not being more thoughtful about the gadgets he brought.

One step at a time, he moves through the gate. Each step feels heavy and uncertain but eventually he's through the gate. No red light flashes and no one moves towards him, relieving some of the heaviness in his heart. He takes a deep breath and walks over to where the bags should be, praying the silence means nothing has been seen as amiss. Sure enough the bags are sat inconspicuously on the belt, waiting for him. He lets out a breath and grabs the bags. The weight of them pulls him down again as he follows the group down the clinical corridor.

It seems they have an infinite number of labs to look at. Every time they leave one lab they walk into another identical one. Each of them have huge machines doing something forever, Clint can't keep up with the jobs of each machine. Unlike the lobby, the rest of the labs mimic the external appearance - a working, messy lab space. Many of them are actually made of concrete where the more dangerous, less precise experiments are going on.

Metals and chemicals are scattered across the work surfaces doing who knows what. All the scientists ignore the group and keep on with their work, demonstrating the uses of each thing. For an energy company, they seem to be doing a lot of non energy based experiments. Mice and other small animals are being tested in one of the rooms for who knows what. What kinds of things are animals needed for in a place like this?

The small watch underneath his shirt beeps quietly, signalling the new hour. Clint nods his head slightly towards Natalie. Her eyes are fixed ahead of the group but even from across the corridor he can see her searching for him out of the corner of her eyes. 

Suddenly her skin turns ashen and pale. Sweat erupts across her face, sticking the strands of flaming red hair to her skin. The harsh brightness of her hair highlights the grey, sickly tone of her skin. As everyone else continues to move on she stops, buckling over and gripping onto her stomach.

One of the guards begins to walk towards her tentatively, a hand still hovering over the gun on the side of his leg. Just as he begins to get close to her Natalie empties her stomach. Unfortunately for the guard - his shoes and leg happen to fall in the line of fire. The man jumps backwards, his hand flying away from the gun to cover his nose.  
Clint rushes towards Natalie, approaching from the back to steer clear of the puddle of vomit in front of her. He places a careful hand in her back, letting her lean into him. She buries her face into his shoulder and groans. He tries not to cringe at the smell of the vomit and the inevitable bits that'll be left on his shirt. It's not a smell he particularly wants to be reminded of.

"Are you okay?" He brushes some of the hair out the way of her face. A mix of vomit and sweat plaster the hair to her forehead. 

"I don't feel so good..." She mumbles into his shoulder meekly. Her legs appear to buckle as she pushes herself even closer into him. 

In that moment he's no longer within Roxxon, he's four again. The acrid taste of his own vomit burnt his throat and the overpowering reek of vomit he'd been lying in seared into his mind. Salty tears and and metallic blood mingle in the puddles of vomit but he can't bring himself to move.

Not until Barney.

He must've heard the crying from upstairs and ventured down to the basement to find Clint curled up in the corner of the room. To this day he can still remember the feeling of his brother picking him up and wrapping him in his warm, over sized jumper. Once Clint was wrapped up protectively, Barney gently lifted him, keeping Clint close to his chest. Despite how much their dad would beat him for it he took Clint back up to their room and carefully tucked him into bed.

It seems now the positions were reversed.

The group has finally turned around to see Natalie pressed into him. A few of the people mutter and move away, leaving the lady who originally brought them to come forward and deal with the situation.

"She just suddenly threw up everywhere." Clint stutters out the explanation to the disgusted audience. 

"Lets take her out of here." The lady looks out to the rest of the group and motions for them to continue as she moved to deal with the situation.

She begins moving towards the pair, one hand out as if to reassuringly touch Natalie and check if she's alright. Her hand stops before she actually touches Natalie. Her nose crinkles as she lurches away from Natalie - not even attempting to be subtle. She pulls her hand away quickly and replaced it at her side. Without much hesitation, she starts to move back the way they had come from, not even slowing for them.

Clint gently taps Natalie and starts to guide her away from the vomit to follow the lady. With Natalie mostly out of it he is forced to half drag her as they dash down the corridor to match the ladies speed. She doesn't even look back once to check on them, relying on the sound of their footsteps for an idea of where they are. She doesn't check on them properly until they've gone through the security gate and are back in the lobby from before. 

"Would I be able to get my phone to call our Mom? We can't stay here with Natalie like this and our coach doesn't leave for hours. Our Mom works in the city a lot so she should be able to pick us up." Clint says, setting Natalie down on the sofa gently. She manages to keep herself upright and sitting without Clint to lean against.

Just as the lady looks like she's going to refuse to give Clint his phone Natalie pales even further. Her grey tinted skin turns green and she buckles over to put her head between her legs. 

"Okay. I'll go get it quickly, stay with your sister." She scurries away to the front desk keenly, not looking back for a second. 

Clint carefully sits down beside Natalie. He gently pushed her up to slip next to her and let her rest on him. She is shaking against him, her teeth chattering violently. He pushes her hair out of her face as she closes her eyes slowly.

"You okay?" He whispers into her ear quietly. She nods slightly, pressing her head into his shoulder. His head meets hers as he places his head delicately on top of hers.  
The lady returns with the box of phones and holds it out for him to search through, her body angled away from Natalie semi conscious one.

He rummages around in the box for a minute, searching for the phone Bobbi had given him. Despite the number of phones in the box Clint finds it relatively quickly and let's the lady take the box out of reach as researched through the contacts for the one named Mom. It rings for a couple of seconds before greeting him with a familiar voice.

"Hey Honey how are you doing?" The out of breath voice of Bobbi chirps from the other end of the line. He can hear her fists pounding the punching bag in the background and the sounds of weaponry being used by someone in the distance.

"Natalie has gotten sick, the same thing that Nicky had the other day. We need you to come and get us." He says quietly enough not to disturb Natalie too much but loud enough for the lady not to be suspicious.

"So it's going well? Is she being convincing?" The pounding stops for a minute as the phone is readjusted.

"Yeah, she looks really really bad. Her face is turning green and she already threw up all over the floor. She's leaning against me and I can feel her sweating. She's burning up."

"I shouldn't be surprised, this is her forte. I always knew her talents were wasted with her rotting away in the academy. "

"We should be able to wait an hour or so. Call if you have any updates. Love you."

"Good luck." He can hear her smiling through the phone, the sound of her punches has returned, "You've got all the stuff I stole right? We don't want any of that stuff getting out - you're not supposed to have anything with you. " He rolls his eyes apparently not even needing to pretend he's talking to his mom.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Don't worry about us, well be fine until you get here. I'll stay with her the whole time." He hangs up the phone before he has to endure any more of Bobbi's doting and tucks the phone into his pocket. The lady eyes the motion quietly but doesn't say anything about it.

Natalie starts quietly tugging at his sleeve, her face even more sickly than ever.

"I think I'm going to be sick again." She mutters quietly, as if already fighting against the urge to vomit. Her words restrained and desperate .

"We need to take her to the toilets." He turns to The lady, knowing she agrees.

Just as they move to head to the toilets a crowd of workers pour in from the upper floors, moving to the cafeteria for their lunch break. The mass.movement of the crowd camouflages their sudden movement to the toilets. Clint lets the lady take Natalie to the toilet, not wanting to enter the ladies toilets, despite Natalie's sickness.

"I'll wait out here, just call out if you need me." He says as they reach the toilets. The woman nods and quickly rushes into the toilets, scared of getting vomit on her polished shoes. Once they're in the toilets and the door is closed he quickly pulls the out of order sign out of the holder he noticed when they first entered the room building. Once the sign is fastened on the door he slips into the room, making sure the door doesn't make a sound as it closes behind him. 

Thankfully the sound of Natalie vomiting does a good job of hiding his entrance as he fumbles with the wires stowed in his pocket. He quickly hooks the phone up to the camera filming the bathroom just as Natalie had earlier when she came into the bathroom as they waited he pulls up the footage she recorded and repeats the process they went over a million times before coming to override the footage the guards are watching. 

The phone pings to alert him it has been done and he breathes a sigh of relief.

_Stage one is complete._

The lady looks up at the sudden sound, surprised to see Clint at the door with his phone plugged into the camera. Before she can react, Natalie has grabbed her head and slammed it into the toilet bowl, her head colliding with the hard ceramic bowl with a dull thwack.

Natalie stands up, flipping her hair over one shoulder and grinning menacingly. Despite her sickly and dishevelled appearance earlier, she's looking bright and full of life now. 

"Well that was fun. What's next?"


	8. Up In Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint navigate their first S.H.I.E.L.D mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about not uploading last week - it wont happen again. Mock week was last week so I had to revise all week for the tests. I thought I would have time to upload but it turns out I over estimated myself.
> 
> I've actually been really ill since Friday so there's probably so many mistakes. Here's my apology in advance.

_10:50, 15/01/2016_

"This is a terrible idea. Your ideas suck." Clint grumbles as they squirm through the vents.

Natasha rolls her eyes playfully, her body twisting to move around the tight corner in the vent. The edge of the metal cuts into her from despite her attempts to bend her body out of the way.

As the sharp pain ripples across her body she curses her lack of practice at Ballet. Ever since her graduation she'd avoided keeping up,her training, allowing herself to slack off. She silently promised to try harder to keep on top of it when she makes it out of the damn vent.

If she makes it out the vent.

Humid, dust air chokes them despite the occasional shot of wind being blown at them by fans. All the wind does is blow more dust into their faces. Clint, being behind Natasha, is able to use her as a shield to protect himself from the dust.

"I didn't hear you coming up with any better ideas." She whispers once they're far enough away from any open grates where they might be overheard. 

"So I have to do everything now?" He mumbles through gritted teeth. When comes to the corner in the grates he seems to slip by without any trouble. His body becomes pliant and agile as he sweeps past the bend with a delicate and relaxed ease. She keeps the surprise from surfacing on her face and buried the knowledge with the ever growing notes she keeps on the boy.

Natasha stops at the grate, noticing the enticing looking metal door leading off of the corridor beneath them. Clint comes to a stop behind her, almost knocking into her as he whips around the corner at a high speed. She heard the sound of him taking a breath before speaking and quickly kicks him to make sure he's quiet. He seems to understand the motion as she heard the sound of him quietly tapping on his phone to unlock it go check the cameras near by.

He moved a hand forward and taps her leg three times to signal that there are three cameras monitoring the corridor. 

Making as little noise as she can, she pulls the cologne Bobbi had stolen from the storage unit out of the pocket in her jacket. She unscrews the top and gives her thumb, drawing blood. The small head swells on the tip of her finger, shining sisterly in the odd lighting of the vent.

"Hold your breath until I start moving. Cover your nose as well." She tries to be as quiet as possible, hoping Clint will be able to hear her.

With the limited space she orientates her finger to drop the blood into the liquid. She quickly forces her mouth closed and buried her head in the crook of her arm, smelling the sickly sweet smell of the cologne reacting even a second after the blood dropped in.

In silence they wait for a couple of seconds, the air heavy and thick with the cologne. Even through the crook of her arm, the smell is overpowering. Natasha feels her eyelids starting to feel heavy as her lungs protest the harsh chemicals. Having the bottle right beneath her face isn't helping but the vent is too tight to safely move it further without breathing in more chemicals and the distance wouldn't make much of a difference in the enclosed space.

Just as she thinks she can't take anymore the sound of the guard collapsing beneath them echoes up to the vent, signalling their time to move. With one hand still covering her hand,she whips the lid out and seals the bottle to stop any more fumes getting into their lungs.

Without wasting a second she pushes the vent open and launches herself out, twisting her body as fast as she can to land in her feet instead of her face. The impact shudders through her body but she forced herself up again to avoid being crushed by a falling Clint. 

Once she's safely out of the way Clint drops down, mimicking her own landing and landing graciously on the balls of his feet. He coughs quietly into the crook of his arm his lungs forcing out the chemicals. The bottle knocks against her ribs ominously, the sweet smell still somewhat rippling out of it.

She spots the guard lying on the floor beneath one of the cameras. She jobs over silently and checks him to make sure he's definitely out of it. His breathing is steady and his body completely still and his eyes lower and unresponsive. She nods to Clint and starts stripping the man down. He's roughly the same size as Clint so the clothes should fit nicely enough.

"Are we going to talk about that?" Clint asks quietly as he pulls one leg out of his shorts with a weird hopping motion. His balance is completely off as he wobbles dramatically from side to side. Stubbornly, he refuses to sit down to undress and keeps idiotically attempting to do it all while standing up.

"Talk about what?"

"How you stole my cologne and knew how to use it." His words come out muffled as he tugs the shirt over his head enthusiastically.

"You left it in your pocket, you were just asking for me to take it off of your hands. I'm kinda disappointed that you didn't notice me sticking my hand in your pocket really." She states flippantly, her mind instinctively checking the weight of the pocket for the cologne as she chides Clint.

"You know me putting things in range of you isn't an invitation." 

"Where's the fun in that." She smirks and chucks the pile of the guards clothes at Clint while he's not looking. The clothes harmlessly bounce off of his head while he stands stunned.

The same can't be said about the gun in the holster.

He looks over at her, completely unimpressed. He grabs the clothes and pulls them all, keeping his dirty look trained on Natasha the entire time.

"How did you know how to use it anyway? Me and Bobbi couldn't figure out what it did." 

"Neither of you were specially trained in how to detect and use poisons." She walks over to the metal door and uses the phone she nabbed out of Clint's clothes to back into the machinery keeping the door closed.

"What did it even do? Won't the cameras still see us?" He pulls the helmet over his head, now fully dressed and drags the unconscious body of the guard over to the door casually.

"It just knocked the guy out but the chemicals kinda messed with the circuitry of the cameras. I predict we have around ten minutes before someone notices the cameras are frozen - about the same time as guard change." She furiously those at the console - all too aware of how little time they have. 

"Great...Just great." His words sound stressed but his eyes are lit up with a childish fervour and there's a grin plastered across his smug face.

The gun that was tucked in the holster has been whipped out and he is aiming it at the walls and ceilings. For the first time in weeks he has his hands on a proper weapon and it's like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

A hint of the boy Natasha was running with for months before SHIELD is peeking through the cracks. The desperate scrabbling survivor clawing at the sky, aching to be free.

The door heels open, knocking Natasha out of her thoughts. She looks over to Clint and smirks mischievously. She cautiously pushes the door open and presses the work button on her watch. They need to be back in the bathroom in 10 minutes if they want to slip out of the building without being caught.

"Wish me luck." She whispers, more as a prayer than anything else, and steps into the room. She leaves the door open a crack so she can still talk to Clint in case she runs into trouble.

Part of her aches for the exit as she steps deeper and deeper into the room, terrified her only exit will be cut off. Her instincts take over and can the rooms for any other exit but there's is nothing visible except the ajar door behind her. 

Towers of cabinets surround her from every side. They're huge and seem to absorb all the light in the room. On each cabinet, a letter is spray painted for convenience.

Her eyes dart around, looking for the letter P. She stalks deeper into the room, walking through the mountainous alphabet spilling through the room.

The cabinets labelled P come into view, the sheer number daunting considering the time limit. She quickly walks over to the draws and begins opening each one in succession, checking the letters on each. 

"P...e... " She hums to herself as she hastily scans with her eyes moving as quick as they can. Finally she reaches the right draw after what feels like hours.

"Pegasus!" She says louder than she meant to, unintentionally letting out a sigh of relief.

"Do you have it?" Clint asks from the door. Somehow the door looks much closer now . Clint is nearby, his voice still audible despite how it's little more than a whisper. The realisation calms her and her sweaty palms. 

"Yeah, it's here." She pulls the file out and holds the heavy weight of it in her two hands.

"Are you going to read it?"

"Of course not." She hurriedly shoves it back into the draw, ashamed to have even removed it from the draw. She knows her mission - they both do. Right now they're trying to earn Fury's trust, they can't go around reading or stealing too secret files.

"Why not? He'll never know? I think we deserve a few answers." It sounds like Clint is about to come in a read it himself - she wouldn't put it past him.

She quickly walks over to the fire alarm she spotted on the ceiling and pulls out the gum she snatched out of Clint pocket. She sticks it in her pocket and chews it for a few seconds until it's more pliant.

Once she's sure it's flexible enough she spits it out and stretches it as thin as she can. The gum spreads out further than normal gum - almost the size of a dinner plate - and is still thick and strong despite how large she's pulled it. When it's large enough she looks up and carefully aims the large blanket of gum at the fire alarm and throws it directly upwards, watching it stick perfectly around the alarm to cover all of it in a sticky gross layer.

Not wanting to waste any more time, she opens the cologne once more, covering her mouth again. She tips the liquid all over the files, trying to use as little as possible. She makes a clear trail to a couple of other cabinets, opening the draws and making sure to pour the poison onto the files within each draw.

Once very last drop is used and poured into the draws around the room, she pulls a match out of a hidden pocket in her jumper. The great thing about poisons is they're multipurpose. In this case the poison happens to also be extremely flammable - it means you need to carry less rubbish in your bag when you go on missions like this one.

She hastily strikes the match against her trousers, watching the flame rise up the wooden stick mesmerisingly. Before she can get drugged up by her own poison for the second time, she drops the match right into the Pegasus file.

Noticing the time, she dashes out of the room to find Clint in his getup, glaring at her - clearly not happy with her decision. 

"You done then?"

"I completed the mission and did our job. "

"Whatever." He growls, pulling the yo-yo out of his pocket and chucking it up in the vent , not even bothering to look up to see where he's aiming. Sure enough, the loud clank of the yo-yo magnetically attaching to the vent breaks the silence. 

Clint wraps his arm around one of the wire and presses the concealed button on the side to pull him up. Faster than Natasha would've thought possible, the machine pulls him up into the vent. Clint might be lighter than a normal boy of his age but she knows from experience that it's still not easy to carry him. In a second he's at the entrance to the vent and pulling himself up into the right space once more. 

With the door closed they can't see or smell the smoke from the burning files but someone could come by and notice the fire any minute. The gum should do the job of concealing the smoke from the alarm for now but she doesn't want to risk it.

When Clint is fully in the vent he kicks his leg back to knock the yo-yo off of the metal vent so it flatters down to Natasha beneath him. She dashes over to it and copies Clint's actions earlier. The metal cuts roughly into her arm when she winds it around but the pain is relieving.

Her mind is suddenly cleared and her senses heightened by the slight burning in her arm. It only gets worse when she presses the button, her own weight tightening the metal around her wrist. Suddenly she's at the opening of the vent, completely unprepared for the speed of the mechanism. She makes a mental note to thank the science department back at the academy. 

She grabs onto the vent with one arm and pulls herself up into it again, greeted by the familiar sight of darkness and the less than pleasant sight of Clint's arse. Thankfully with the darkness pressing in her vision is limited to things right in front of her, so soon his butt joins the rest of the tunnel in a hazy, blur of darkness.

"You remember the way right?" She asks as he starts crawling forwards in an army crawl.

"Course, what do you take me for?" He grumbles. Her mind flits back to all the times he got lost during their time on the run but was too proud to admit it so they ended up walking in circles for hours until Natasha took pity on him and lead them home. She considers bringing it up but decide against it. If it looks like he's heading the wrong way she can always intervene. 

Her watch ticks tauntingly on her wrist, every tick of the clock seemingly getting closer and closer together. Time slips away hauntingly fast as they wriggle through the endless system of vents running through the building. What building needs this extensive a vent system? 

Ahead of her, Clint stops suddenly. She quickly stops herself so as not to smash into him and potentially knocking off balance. The loud pounding of Clint fists on the grate covering the vent where they entered. After a couple of pounds it calls away, clattering louder than she would've liked on the floor. The sound makes her flinch more noticeably it's supposed to. The mix of adrenaline, tension and darkness taking more of a tool than she thought. She digs her fingers into her palm, reminding herself of her training. She can't afford any weaknesses - something like that can get her killed in the field. It could get Clint killed.

Light floods in all at once, burning her eyes. Clint is gone from the vent, his absence leaving the vent opening visible and allowing the light to fill the space. Realising how little time they have she pulls herself through the right space and drops out of the vent onto The floor of the bathroom.

Her bare fingers touch the filed floor, curling up against the cold surface. the chill spreads through out her body, finally being out in the open once again. Without the clammy feeling of Clint's body heat in the claustrophobic space leaves her feeling bare and shivering. 

The fresh air is a grateful change from the humidity of before and she finds herself drinking in deep breaths of it. Both the thick air of the vent and the heavy poisoned gas from the cologne have left her throat and lungs feeling uncomfortably sore and raw. Every breath she takes now seems to exist to remind her of the fact. 

"So glad that part of the plan is done." Clint groans, stretching every part of his body.

"Tell me about it." She stands up off the floor and begins moving towards the stall where they left the lady earlier. 

"I never want to go somewhere stuffy like that again. One day I'll buy a huge countryside house and just hide there in the fresh air." He rants, still not moving away from the entrance of the vent.

She pushes open the stall door to see the woman bound like she was when they left her. Her eyes are wide open and she's thrashing furiously. Malice sparkles in her eyes as she growls at Natasha through the gag around her mouth.

"Our host is awake again." She calls out to Clint, not removing her eyes from the woman.

"Oh, how lovely? What are we doing with her?" He struts over to Natasha's side and leeks around the door to check on the woman. Her eyes dart between Natasha and Clint, her legs scrambling for give on the ground in an attempt to fight back.

"What do you think you're going to do in that state?" Clint asks, his head still the only thing peeking out from around the door frame. 

"We can't leave her like this. She might make enough noise to get someone's attention." Natalie's eyes click back to her watch as she speaks. They have five minutes left until they need too be leaving the toilets and making their dash for the front gate.

"Well what do you want us to do? We're not going to kill her!" He turns his attention to Natalie, his eyes burning into the side of her head. She can feel his eyes but she forced herself to keeper eyes on the woman - someone has to. Even though she knows he trusts her with his life - he's proved it a hundred times over - his uncertainty on her intentions cuts into her.

"That's not what I meant."

She steps forward and grabs the woman's head, struggling against the ladies feral thrashing. Before the woman breaks free she slams her head into the wall behind. Her eyes roll back and close as she call unconscious. As carefully and gently as she can, she lowers the woman and feels the back of her head for bleeding . when her hand comes away clean and not bloody, she release the woman to slump down on the bathroom once again.

"You have a few minutes to get dressed." She chucks him the clothes, not quite catching him off guard this time. Her catches them by the tips of his fingers and starts getting undressed.

The guards clothes considerably harder to get out of than his own clothes. He chucks each of the items onto the floor in a haphazard pile at Natasha's feet. She gathers them up as they drop and chucks them into the stall with the now unconscious woman. When he drops the gun and the holster she tucks the gun in her jacket pocket. You never know you'll need a gun...

By the time she's finished Clint is dressed in his earlier getup again. The discontent expression has returned as he fiddles with the shirt and continues readjusting the outfit. 

Suddenly her watch is beeping. The two exchange a look before moving towards the bathroom door. Natasha presses an ear against the door, listening for the sounds of people outside. At first it's quiet but soon enough the sound of hundreds of feet fill the corridor as rebound break ends and people start moving to return to their stations.

Natasha nods quickly and pulls open the door, leaning into Clint again - keeping up the sick act again. She focuses on the feeling of the sickness, feeling her face start burning up and her body convulse and shiver. He supports her weight carefully, making sure to be gentle while still forcefully keeping her from collapsing on the ground.

As casually as possible, they leave the bathroom and head into the lobby beyond. People in work suits are all milling casually around the entrance. Some are headed out to get lunch and others going in the opposite direction to get to the in building canteen the tour guide had pointed out. Between them, they manage to create a dense body of people, blocking the view of any unwanted onlookers.

Natasha and Clint make the most of the sudden cramped, blinded space to begin their get away. They slip undetected into the crowd, weaving through the masses in a reach for freedom.

A few people spot the sickly look of Natasha's face and allow the pair past. Many cover their noses and crumple their faces up at the smell of vomit still coming off of Natasha. She can't blame them to be honest.

Soon enough they've made their way towards the front door, being carried by the tide of workers. They barely have to even walk - instead just letting the crowd push them along. Drifting carelessly.

The receptionist from earlier is casually sitting at the desk, playing with a pencil absent mindedly. All thoughts of Clint and Natalie are gone from her mind. There's still no need for her to raise the alarm for another few minutes. They should be out by that point.

They manage to break into the fresh air, leaving the hardened walls of Roxxon behind them. Compared to the air conditioned rooms of Roxxon, the outside world is surprisingly not fresh. Smoke forms pillars out of the huge chimneys covering the building in an odd kind of black fog.

"Now I feel like I actually need to be sick." Natasha grumbles under her breath.

"The joys of the big city." Clint scrunches up his nose, "I forgot how much this sucks."

Natasha and Clint hobble over to the gate where the guards are patrolling and inspecting incoming cars. Most of them look half asleep - especially the one sitting in the booth beside the gate. She doesn't even notice their approach. Whatever daydream she's living in is clearly better than her actual life.

"Excuse me." Clint approaches the booth, still diligently supporting Natasha.

The lady snaps awake and eyes them both up. They must look a state judging by the look on her face. Pity crosses her face and she warms up to the pair. 

Her mistake.

Hopefully she isn't fired...

"What can I do to help you both." She smiles weakly - the action not quite reaching her eyes. The dark bags under her eyes and empty coffee cups say enough about her.

"My sister's really sick - our mom said she'll pick us up in a few minutes."

"Ah yes...Alex and Natalie Rushman right?" She taps on her keyboard carefully and incredibly slowly. 

Every second that passes is one second closer to them being caught and S.H.I.E.L.D being compromised. Soon enough they'll know what Natasha has done but without her in custody they can't prove they're a part of S.H.I.E.L.D - they also have no way of knowing what file was their target. Natasha would like to keep it that way if possible. Torture is never fun.

In an attempt to hurry the woman up Natasha begins gagging. The acrid taste of vomit burns her throat. She can't wait until she can get back to her dorm and brush her teeth several times over. Anything to get rid of this taste.

Thankfully the woman speeds up, completing the process in what must be around half the time. All she needed was a little encouragement.

"Everything seems in order. Hopefully you feel better soon." The woman hands Natasha a lollipop and presses a button on the console. The barrier lifts up to let the pair pout into the outer world. Free from the Roxxon facility.

"Thanks." Natasha says meekly, trying to keep her vomit in her mouth. 

Not wasting any time, the two of them dash away as inconspicuously as possible. When Natasha looks back she sees the security woman has already looked away from them. All thoughts of the two of them completely erased from her mind.

Once they've rounded the corner Natasha throws up into a bush - trying to cleanse her mouth of the putrid substance. Hopefully the rain washes it away soon enough. Clint awkwardly pats her back. Every motion is so light that it's almost as if he hasn't touched her at all.

She pops the lollipop into her mouth, eternally grateful to the woman. Sure the lollipop tastes bad because of the sick but its better than the previous taste of her mouth.

"I thought it would be harder than that but there's next to no proper security. From what Fury said I expected some top secret facility but that was a joke. Anyone with decent gadgets could've done that..." Clint muses.

"What about it?" 

"Well Fury said he needed us specifically to do it right? HE made a big deal about it. Why did it need to be us?"

"Maybe he was just trying to make us sound more important than we are." Clint hums, unsatisfied, "Why do you think he said that then?"

"I dont know. Something fishy is going on though. I like Fury but how do we know we can trust him? Governments haven't proven to be particularly trustworthy in the past." Clint grumbles and crosses his arms.

"Well it's better than what we were doing before. These people want to save people - not kill them. They want to stop wars. Who cares if he's got secrets - he's a spy?" Natasha takes the lollipop out of her mouth and plays with it absent mindedly.

"We'll see.."


	9. Defenders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint report back to Fury and receive an interesting proposal

_09:00, 18/01/2016_

Just days after escaping Roxxon Clint was itching to leave again. That small taste of freedom had left him craving more. Training and practising in the academy was all walls and good but nothing got the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing like working undercover and running through the streets.

He sits up in bed, his head pounding viciously and the alarm clock by his head beeping angrily. Hed slept though all the previous alarms and as his clock liked to point out, it was now 9. Bobbi must have been waiting for him down stairs for ages - he wonders when she gave up waiting on him. He considers rushing down to apologise but the damage is now done, what harm could come of taking his time now?

He slides out of bed, feeling the cold floor under his feet. His toes curl against the unnatural feeling, recoiling violently. His mind clouds over, his feet on a different floor. Gone is white, smooth floor of his dorm room. Instead there's a hard concrete floor covered in sharp bumps and shards of glass. 

"We'll get him back some day." His brothers voice soothes him, his arm wrapped around his tiny waist protectively. "He'll pay for every blow. I'll make sure of it."

Clint turns to look at his brother, moving as slowly as he can gearing that a sudden movement could chase away the memory. The years have melted away leaving his brother young and fresh faced. His eyes sparkle with the embers of the fire that would one day fill him. His skin is pale and taut on his bones, the tightness highlighting his bright shining scars. He looks over to Clint and flashes a ferocious smirk. Before all this faded away once more, Clint buries his face into Barneys side. He breathes in the familiar, smokey, bloody smell of his brother.

"I don't want you to go." He mumbles quietly. His brother chuckles heartily despite the broken bones hiding beneath the tatty shirt.

"I'll never leave you Hawk. You're stuck with me." He pulls Clint closer and rests his head against Clint. "We're built to survive." 

With that the memory changes, darkens. Now the floor underfoot is the dry, dusty field he was abandoned on months ago. Barney is older, his features sharper and harder. Blood is smeared down his face.

"He's your mentor! How could you have turned on him?" Barney demands - his eyes filled with fire and jealousy and disgust. He keeps himself just out of Clint reach, his body angled away, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"What he was doing was wrong Barney." Clint managed through the thick blood filling his mouth and running freely from his shattered nose.

"He cared for you! He chose you to train, to be his apprentice! You still betrayed him despite everything." Barney casts his eyes away. He clenched his jaw and fist before looking back to his bleeding brother.   
Clint reaches out a hand for Barneys muddy trousers, grabbing at the air in search of a hold. Barney moves away from Clint's outstretched hand and begins walking through the rain into the murky darkness after the circus caravans that are long gone by now.

"Where will you go?!" He croaks and feebly attempts to army crawl after Barney.

"Anywhere." He doesn't slow down or even look back for a second. 

"What about me? " Tears begin closing freely and mingle with the sticky blood and mud coating him.

"You'll be survive." He stops and looks down at the floor, his back still to Clint, "We're survivors after all."

With that his brother leaves the muddy field, Clint's blood down his face and clothes. Footprints left behind quickly vanish with the running mud from the heavy rain. Any trace of Barney trickles away with the rain. A ghost.

He's suddenly pulled out of his memories by the sharp sound of someone knocking on the door. His hand reaches up to his cheek to wipe away his tears. Taking a deep, settling breath, he closes his eyes and wakes himself up - reminding himself of where he is. 

He hadn't had any flashbacks for months - he was doing so well. Now there have been three in two days, two now and one the day before. Why was he getting them again? Why now? He presses a thumb into his palm violently. The brief pain is a welcome relief from his thoughts.

The door knocks once more, no less patient and calm than before. Nat. He doesn't bother trying to cover up his tears - she'll know no matter what he does to hide it.

"Come in." The door quietly opens to reveal Nat in her pyjamas with a tray of breakfast in her hands. As always her face is the perfect mask of neutrality but his heart lightens at the sight of it. 

"Breakfast in bed, I should lay in more often." He smirks and moves to one side to allow Nat to sit down beside him. She quietly moved to his side and puts the tray on his lap carefully. Despite the rule preventing people from taking food out of the cafeteria no one has ever even tried to stop Nat from taking a tray of food to her room. It wasn't worth the pain.

"Don't get used to it. I was taking my own food up to eat and Bobbi was worried." She grabs a slice of toast off of his tray and nibbles on it. He gasps and pouts over the lost toast .

"You didn't think it was all for you. Without your early morning exercise I don't think your belt could handle all that." She grabs a handful of grapes and tucks them into her hidden pyjama pocket before Clint can stop her. Before she eats the whole tray he gets to work the toast and allows an easy silence to settle around them both.  
From the corner of his eye he notices her rubbing the scars on her wrists. Her fingers move lightly and deftly as if the scars were a fragile life, something precious.

"I still use them - sometimes. When the nightmares are too strong." She distracts herself by nibbling on her bread silently, her eyes still raking the skin over as she eats. 

"I haven't had any memories for months - they just started again yesterday on the mission." He looks down at the tray but can't stomach eating anymore right at that moment.

"What a pair we make." She laughs but her eyes aren't smiling. 

"At least it lets he eat breakfast in bed when we deem fit. " he grins and grabs an Apple from the tray, making himself eat it as if to prove a point. 

"Well if let's me eat breakfast in bed, not you. I'm just letting you in on the treat today." She grins and judges him gently, "Fury wants to see us once you're done moping in bed." She stands up, leaving the tray with him and skips out if The room, heading off to god knows where. 

~~~

_09:34, 18/01/2016_

Clint had had to bring the tray back down to the canteen after he'd finished with it. That had earnt him a disapproving look from the kitchen staff who was him enter with the tray. 

Now Clint was back outside Fury's office for what like the hundredth time. He silently sits down on a bench in front of the office. It's not particularly comfortable (probably at Fury's request) but its certainly better than standing would he waits.

Neither Natasha nor Bobbi has arrived yet leaving Clint alone one more. For once he wonders if it's better this way. The memory from that morning is still playing in his mind. Every person that he walked past when going to the canteen seemed to have Barney's face and demeanour. 

His feet tap the ground quietly, bobbing up and down quickly to make a drilling rhythm that cuts into his mind. He rubs his knuckles with a calloused thumb to keep his mind anchored. The feeling is soothing...considering.

Hes so wrapped up in his own spells that he doesn't notice someone coming and sitting at the opposite end of the bench. The bench creak, causing Clint's head to whip around. Fury is sat quietly, in the same position as Clint, his hands knitted together and his head angled down to look at them. After a minute Clint turns away from Fury, uncertain and nervous. It's weird seeing the man outside of his office.

"I dont trust people, not even my closest friends. its not surprising, considering my job. Spies aren't well known for their warm trusting natures." Clint looks back at Fury. His eyes are darker than usual and keeping determinedly fixed on his knitted hands.

"People have a habit of letting me down, you see. I didn't use to be like this but the last time I trusted someone bad things happened." His hand twitches and clint cant help but think of his eyes patch that sticks out like a sore thumb on his face.

Perhaps Fury had looked into his past or maybe he just recognised Clints expression from the mirror but Clint knew why he was saying this all. even the people closest to him had taken his trust and left it to freeze in the mud. There was no trust left to give anymore.

"I believe in people though." He looks over at clint for the first time. His eyes searches Clints analytically, forever a spy.

"The thing about people is that theyre complicated. For every greedy, murderous, prideful person are 20 people who want to do better, be better. People who want to help and preserve and save this ball of rock and all the souls on it. When it comes down to it, people will rally around a good cause and work together towards something better.

"Is that what you tell yourself when you see all the murderers and the horrible things people doo to each other?" Clint scoffs. 

"I have to. Its hard to see the worst of humanity and not loee faith. But when you see people doing good, people like your friends: Bobbi and Natasha, it can remind you of the good parts of the world - the parts you are protecting." Fury sighs, looking away from clint again. 

"It's harder than it sounds. " Clint says quietly. 

Just as Fury opens his mouth to respond, Natasha and Bobbi rounds the corner. They're both laughing and dressed in their training kit - weapons dangling from their belts and sweat clinging to their exposed skin. Bobbi's hair is tied up in a bun while Natasha's is loose and hanging down and sticks to her forehead due to her sweat.

"You couldn't have take a shower?!" Fury scowls and stands up angrily.

"We didn't want to keep you waiting." Bobbi smiles sweetly and tucks the stick that was in her hand into her belt to join the growing collection.

"Sure." He grumbles and walks into his office with all of them following close behind him. 

Bobbi skips over to his side, her sticks clattering together as she moves. She slings an arm around his shoulder causing his nose to crinkle up at the oungent smell. She spots the reaction and laughs but doesn't move her arm off of him.

"You skipped out on me today. I had to train on my own." She doesn't sound particularly bothered by it.

"My bed was warm and I didn't particularly feel like leaving it to be beaten up by you."

"At least you've accepted you'll never beat me. " 

"I wouldn't say never. You do have an unfair advantage though - its not particularly fair. "

"Is he complaining again?" Natasha asks. Somehow, despite training with Bobbi, she has almost no bruises. There are a couple of bruises that you would expect to see after a fight but nothing out of ordinary that would signal a fight with Bobbi.

"Natasha didn't seem to have a problem with the serum."

"Of course - because shes also a monster so it doesn't make any difference to her. You're both monstrous in a hand to hand battle." He scowls and keeps moving forward into the office.

Fury is in his normal position, leaning against the desk casually, his dark trench coat brushing the floor gently. There's a huge stack of folders on the usually completely empty desk. From what Clint can tell he doesn't spend much time in the academy, with most of his time being spent at the triskelion (the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters). He mus call Clint into the office to shout at him every time he comes to the academy judging by the number of times hes been in this room. 

Bobbi and Natasha stand next to him, not talking or laughing. Both of them are stood to attention, backs straight and heads tilted up. Natasha's hands are in front of her, palms open and facing fury while Bobbi's are behind her back and are folded neatly. Something about the cold, hardness of the positions make him uneasy and nervous - reminding him of the feeling he got on the coach with Natasha. He purposely bends over slightly and crosses his arms in front of him.

Fury surveys them all carefully. He turns away and starts looking through the files on tbe desk before settling on three and pulling them out quickly.

"Barbara Morse." He holds up one of the files and starts flicking through it.

"Top of the class in: Science, Math, Physical, Hand to Hand combat." After he says each one he throws a stack of paper from the file onto the desk, "Your grades in languages, espionage, weaponry are all well above average"

He continues flicking through the file casually, scan reading the pages. Once hes happy with her file he throws it down with the rest of the paper he threw and picks up the next file.

"Natalia Alinova Romanov. Top of the class in: Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, French, German, Russian, English, Spanish, Italian and Espionage. I dont think ive met anyone fluent in that many languages. " He nods to the huge stack of papers he just threw down, "Your grades in physical, hand to hand combat and weaponry are through the roof. Your aim is supposedly the best in your class as well. " He puts the folder down on the table as well. 

He gives Clint a pointed look before picking up his file. Clint's stomach flips under the look but he refuses to straighten up like the others.

"Clinton Barton. Top of the class in weapons training. Your grades in Science and Math are nothing to laugh at either, your teachers mention that they were pleasantly surprised. All the others are above average but your mastery of your bow and arrow are clearly your strongest skill - no one has seen someone as skilled with a bow and arrow ever. Your dedication has been noted in here as well." Fury throws the file down with the others. 

Clint looks to the others, unsure of whats happening. Silence pools around them, no one explaining what is going on. Clint considers breaking the silence to ask what the hell is going on but Fury step forward before he can say anything. He walks around to the back of the desk and sits down on the chair. His hands knit together again as he surveys them all. 

"I dont spend much time here. I tend to leave the recruitment and people things to Coulson - hes communications after all. However, from the time I've spent here in specialists, i know what the elite look like. I might not lead the academy but as the director of SHIELD i am putting together a team of the elite, of people with superhuman abilities or skills. It'll be there to take on missions that are too much big the other agents and i want you three to join it." 

Finally Bobbi drops her guard and looks over to Clint and Natasha with raised eyebrows. She looks just as lost and Clint - something he finds extremely reassuring.

"Why us?" Clint asks, stepping forward towards the desk slowly. Bobbi might be a super solider almost on par with Captain America but him and Natasha are human (or as human as a Russian assassin robot can be) not superhuman.

"Clearly Bobbi has superhuman abilities: regeneration, strength, speed. whereas you and Natasha have superhuman skills. Your skill with a bow and arrow and Natashas training have given you skills that supersede that of a human. Your files speak for themselves. "

"What will we be doing?" Bobbi asks, resuming her position once more.

"You'll be Defenders. Your job will be to protect the earth from threats that could destroy it with the rest of the team. Your headquarters will remain here but you'll be fully fledged SHIELD members."

"Who are the other members?" Natasha asks, suddenly interested in the conversation. Its like shes woken up from a dream or daze.

"There are five of you in total. The other two are on route to here now, they should be here by the end of the day. If you join the team you'll meet them when they arrive."  
His eyes drift down the line of people in front of his desk. They first stop on Bobbi at the end of the line, perfectly in line with Natasha and stood neatly to attention. He leans back and looks at her carefully. He reaches a hand into his pocket and pulls a badge out, holding it out towards Bobbi.

"Will you join the Defenders?" He asks and lets the question hang there. Bobbi bites her lip and closes her eyes for a second. Clint looks over to her, trying to offer her some support her in any way he can but cant think of any way to be helpful.

She quietly steps forward and takes the badge slowly. Her hand lingers as she touches it stroking it with one of her fingers before fully grabbing it and taking it from Fury. She pulls it towards herself and opens it to look at the badge. She steps back into place and strokes the shiny metal of the badge. While shes looking down at the badge Fury pulls a pair of staves up from beside the chair and places them on the desk in front of Bobbi. The sound of the metal hitting the glass surface awakens her and she dashes froward to collect them. Her eyes dart between the staves and badge, completely overwhelmed.

Fury reaches into his pocket again and pulls a second badge out, holding it towards Natasha this time. He doesn't even say anything to her and lets the question ask itself. Natasha moves forward robotic-ally takes the badge quickly and quietly, nodding to Fury in recognition. He hands her a gun in her outstretched hand and she backs away with the gun and badge held delicately in her hands. 

He knows what is coming next. The question. But hes not sure what his answer will be. A team is different to training in the academy. The feeling of returning from the mission yesterday comes to mind. Actually leaving the academy to complete a mission for a good cause. If he joined this team there'd be no more lessons, no more being ordered by teachers and instead he could go on missions and train himself with the other members of the team. He looks to Natasha and Bobbi - his friends. His teammates. Both cradle their badges carefully and protectively, rubbing the metal with deft fingers.

Clint steps forward, his fingers brushing the surface of the badge. Fury's hand lingers kn the badge as he holds it out, sensing Clint's light touch. Clint lets his eyes flick up to meet Fury's eye. As their eyes meet Fury removes his hand from the badge, letting the full weight of it settle onto Clint's hand. Clint brings it close to his chest, his fingers small and insignificant against the casing.

Fury holds a bow up for Clint to reach, waiting patiently without saying anything. With much less hesitation than before, Clint rushes forward to take the weapon out of Fury's hands.

"Welcome to SHIELD."

~~~

_22:56, 18/01/2016_

Bobbi takes the steps to the roof two at a time. Her feet pound against the floor comfortably and her heart beats steadily in her chest. The badge Fury gave her earlier is hanging down from her belt, the thing shed been working towards since Fury pulled her out of that hospital ward and handed her a bottle of serum and her staves.

She reaches the top floor and stops fir a few seconds to catch her breath before moving on. As she pushes the fire escape open a heavy freezing wind greets her. Even with the serum she pulls her jumper a little closer around her, missing the comforting warmth of her bed.

Gravel crunches underfoot, making her presence known loud and clear. She could've made her steps quieter but there isn't much point really - shes not trying to be stealthy. She clenches her jaw against the shiver moving up her spine and shoves her hands into her pockets. 

Up ahead of her she spots Clint, his legs hanging over the edge of the roof. His spot. His own special hideaway at the academy. Bobbi had gone up here with him a few times but normally let him be alone when he cane up here for some space.

His new bow is leaning up against him and the S.H.I.E.L.D badge is resting on the edge of the roof beside him. His dark clothes merge with the dark sky surrounding him so only his hair and neck are clearly visible.

His hair has grown since he first arrived. It used to be cropped close to his head, neat and carefully styled but now its grown out wild and rough so it strokes the bottom of his neck lightly. Its long enough to just about cover the light scar stretching across the back of his neck just above where the spine meets his neck.

His shoulders her hunched over to make himself smaller against the vast night sky. With all the lights coming from the academy not many stars are visible in the sky. Her mind fumbles to fill in the blanks in the sky with her memories of the sky from her time outside of the academy on missions and before shed even heard of SHIELD.

She sits down beside Clint, letting her feet hang precariously off the edge. Shes not scared of much but looking over the edge always sends butterflies through her stomach.

"You pick lovely spots." Bobbi sighs, her feet taping against the wall of the building. The tips of her toes reach the highest window. "What are you doing?"

"Celebrating!" He turns to face her and grins goofily.

All of a sudden Natasha drops down beside them. Bobbi flinches and almost falls off balance, her heart thrashing in her chest.

"Jesus Christ." she mumbles, holding onto her chest with pale, tense fingers.

Natasha grins and sits beside Bobbi, a huge tub of cookie dough ice cream in her mouth and a plastic spoon hanging out of her mouth. Her hair is curlier than rush usual. The tight dark curls have been pulled back roughly into a sloppy bun. Shes dressed in a dark, faded AC/DC shirt and leggings alone with her feet and arms bare. A small arrow Necklace is barely visible in the moonlight over her shirt.

"You look like a hobo." Shes says to Clint, taking the spoon out of her mouth to get another spoonful. He pouts and her ans presses his palms over his heart in shock. Light sparkles in his eyes as his lips upturn slightly.

"You need a hair cut." Natasha states as she struts over to Clint. "How do you manage to look like more of a hobo now than when we were actually living on the streets? "

"You're not even giving my luscious locks a chance."

"They're certainly not luscious and you're not keeping them." Bobbi laughs, siding with Natasha as usual.

"I'm giving you a haircut." Natasha pulls out a knife and hands her ice cream to Bobbi. The icy surface of the ice cream tub burns her fingers but she cradles it anyway. She hasn't seen any tubs like this since arriving at the academy.

"Where did you even get this?" She asks, reading the labels to check its authenticity.

"Coulson." Natasha offers the one word answer as she makes a predatorial move on Clint's hair.

"Here, have some. Coulson has good taste." Clint hands her a plastic spoon from his pocket. She notices he also has a spoon in one hand, concealed by his long shirt sleeves. She grabs the spoon from his hand and attempts to scoop some out with the flimsy spoon. due to the harsh cold of the night it hasn't melted much despite having been cradled by Natasha for a while.

As Bobbi tucks into the ice cream, Natasha gets to work on his hair. As she cuts, the hair falls down onto the rooftop below, dusting his neck with tiny hairs. Bobbi shivers at the mere thought of the itching on his neck but he doesn't even flinch. Natasha hums as she cuts and works gently with deft fingers. She brushes the hair off the back of his neck and examines her handiwork, tidying up bits here and there. Once again the scar on the back of his neck is visible underneath the tiny cuts of hair that cling go the exposed skin.

"There you go - a new hair cut for a new start. We can't have the new team members seeing you with hair like that." Bobbi says 

"Who do you think they'll be?" Natasha asks, taking her seat beside Bobbi and scooping another mouthful of ice cream out of the tub in Bobbi's hands.

"Probably some other super powered kids. If this is such a specialised team and these people haven't come through the academy they must have some sort of superhuman ability like you. " he points at Bobbi.

"It gonna be weird being in a team with two new people. I'm so used to solo missions and training with both of you - I cant imagine working with new people." Bobbi muses.

"You're gonna be surrounded by your superiors constantly while working in this new team. " Clint grins and reaches over for ice cream.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, all of us graduated after being here for a few months or not even needing to attend. You spent years here - so clearly were your superiors. " 

He quickly shakes his head, as if the itchy feeling of his hair on his neck has suddenly made itself known to Clint. Short pieces hair fling onto Bobbi as he brushes them off violently. Natasha quickly hides behind Bobbi, using her as a shield from the rogue hair.

"Sure Clint. At least I have a cool name. What sort of name is Hawkeye?" 

"Hawkeye is so much better than Mockingbird."

"You two can stick with your bird names, my black widow trumps both of yours."

"Sure whatever." Clint rolls his eyes. "Birds are superior, its two against one." He sticks his tongue out.

With his hair done he takes another spoonful of ice cream, holding the spoon in his mouth for longer than necessary. Coulson has strange taste (he drives an old red flying car) but he certainly has good taste in ice cream. 

Once the ice cream has been cleaned out by Natasha the three of them dangle their feet over the rooftop quietly. No one dares speak - even their breathing has gone near silent. Sounds of the forest swarm them - welcoming them into the next stage of their lives.


	10. Tic-Tac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two new recruits arrive at the S.H.I.E.L.D academy

_10:12, 20/01/2016_

As usual, Scott has no clue how things escalated this much. Not two weeks ago he was a normal kid. Sure, he was alone and on the wrong side of the law, but normal. Now he is in a taxi with a girl he hardly knows, miles away from his sister, on his way to join a team of people he doesn't even know the name of to fight crime on a global scale. You know, the normal teenage things.

"Soooooo...SHIELD huh?" He says, tapping his legs and biting his lips. There's a tough lump lodged into his throat making it hard to swallow properly. They've been sat completely silently for hours now and it's been driving him nuts.

The other girl doesn't even look at him. She keeps her eyes diligently fixed on the forest outside the window. Her hair is tied up in a neat, formal pony tail to match her formal attire. For some reason she's chosen to wear a formal shirt and a black skirt over a warm coat. Inside the car is warm enough but outside frost is touching the edges of the blades of grass and plant life. Getting out of the car is going to be a shock to her system if you ask Scott.

"What's going on Hope?" He asks but it's as if he didn't exist. He's nothing more than an ant on the bottom of her shoe.

"Whats your problem with me? We've been in this car for three hours and you haven't spoken a word to me yet. You haven't spoken at all since we got into this car. I know this isn't ideal - "

"Not ideal?" She whips her head around to finally look at him, fury burning viciously in her eyes. "What do you know about 'not ideal'?"

"You think I like this?! I'm moving hundreds of miles away from the only person I care about to join some super secret club because of your dad!" 

"You're nothing special, I dont understand why he chose you of all people to be his successor." She grumbles, turning back to the window once more. Her fist clenches on her leg but she releases it slowly and takes a few deep breaths in and out. Scott huffs and turns away from her as well.

He needs to calm down, the last thing he needs is for him to meet his new team mates in a foul mood. Happy thoughts...happy thoughts...happy... _Cassie_. His last happy thought. After everything that had happened they'd been separated. It didn't matter to anyone that she was his sister. It didn't matter that they'd both lost their parents. No one wanted to adopt a grouchy teenager but they'd all wanted a cute little girl. Cassie had never had any trouble finding a new home, soon enough she'd settled down into her new life. Even now he was still bouncing around. Even with his new suit and the Pym's he was still being passed around like a hot potato.

She'd love the suit. She'd love all of this. When they were younger all her games had been about superheroes and magic and spies. He only had the suit because of Cassie. She'd got really sick a few months ago - they weren't sure if she'd make it so he'd stolen the damn thing to try and get her the treatments she needed. He'd succeeded in keeping her alive but now here he is. This all wouldn't be so bad if he could just see her. In fact, it would be pretty damn amazing if he wasn't so far away from her. How is he supposed to visit her now (not that her family ever let him visit before)?

His back pack holding the precious cargo weighs down on him. Fearing he'd lose it or break the suit, he's kept the bag beside his feet, declining the offer to put it in the trunk. Pym had been pretty clear in his instructions: Hank wasn't going to repair the suit if Scott broke it. If anything happened to any of the mechanisms he would be left completely powerless and back at square one.

Scott bends down and unzips the back pack searching for his phone and headphones. The ant man suit glares up at him as he rustles through the bag. His hand brushes the tough leather and he feels a slight rush. Being a superhero might not be all its cracked up to be but wearing the suit still fills him with a rush (when he doesn't feel the overwhelming need to throw up as he changes size). 

He shakes the thoughts from his head and pulls out the phone gently. He quickly pops his headphones on and pushes the button beside the seat until he's almost lying down. Turns out the super secret spy academy decided to splash out their funds on fancy reclining chairs. It might be a weird thing for a school to spend money on but Scott isn't complaining. He tucks an arm under his head to prop his head up. He turns up the volume until its exploding in his ear and closes his eyes. If Hope doesn't want to talk that's fine, he'll just sleep for the next few hours until they reach the academy. He doesn't need to brood like her.

He slowly drifts into a deep sleep, letting the loud music drown out the sound of the world around him. Everything fades into the back of his mind and he tries to forget the events of the last few days.

The light outside the car dances strangely through his eyelids. Where a black void was before slowly lightens into the rainbow of colour he saw in the Quantum Realm. Splashes of colour surround him, stretching out through the black void and meshing together. Odd patterns begin forming amongst it all like a kaleidoscope. Scott opens his eyes but it's all just more of the same. The car that surrounded him has changed into the Quantum Realm. He can't be back here.

That's impossible, he's meant to be safe. Protected. Hank promised him. He _promised_!

It's just a dream, it has to be. Hank wouldn't have lied to him. It wouldn't make sense for him to be back there anyway, he wasn't even wearing the suit.

"It's all just in my head." He mutters to himself, floating weightlessly in the nothingness of the Quantum Realm, "Hello! Is anyone out there?" He shouts out pointlessly. Anything, even his own voice, is better than the nothing though. 

"Hello?" A voice calls back. It's so faint he can't be sure if it's real or just his own echo.

"Where are you?" He shouts out again, straining his ears to catch any response.

"...remember..." He frowns, definitely not an echo then.

"I hope they remember..." The voice echoes out across the void again. No one else is visible, whoever it is must be hiding. Nothingness spreads out in every direction but whoever is speaking is invisible despite the backdrop.

"Remember what?" He shouts out, his voice hoarse with the strain.

"...you..."

Light suddenly floods into the car to blind him. He sits upright suddenly, accidentally pulling the headphones off of him as he sits up. The icy pit that had been building up in his stomach begins to thaw under the warmth of the sun. Before he'd been mostly protected by the door but now its been opened, that protection is gone and the sun has begun attacking his eyes.

Hope is stood above him, her arms folded as she looks down from the open doorway. As usual she's scowling at him. Is she physically able to smile at him or was she cursed by a witch to forever scowl?

She starts walking away, not even looking to see if hes leaving the car. Her suitcases trailing behind her already, the handles being crushed by her iron grip. Scott quickly hops out of the car, his foot catching on the door of the car, throwing him forward off balance. His brain isn't quite awake yet and his eyes are crumpled up against the bright light. His bags have already been thrown on the floor, most likely by a frustrated Hope. He grabs the straps and slings them over himself and grabs the back pack that was down by his feet and jogs after Hope.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to realise this is the academy. Not until a kid with their arms full of books bashes into him does he realise where he is. The entire place is filled with people milling around. Some of them are carrying books and gadgets of various kinds while others are typing on their computers and furiously scrawling in notebooks as kids spar on the green in gym clothes. In the back ground are three huge buildings that surround the bright green in the centre.

Hope is already twenty meters ahead, rushing towards the central building. As much as he wants to keep gawking at the campus, his fear of getting lost in a huge place like this overwhelms that desire. He jogs after her, his bags bashing against his side as he dashes. Hes got considerably less bags than Hope which gives him the edge he needs to catch up to her. A few of the kids who walk past give him some weird looks but most, especially the older ones, just ignore him, completely. He's beginning to get used to this treatment.

"Where are we headed?" He asks as soon as he catches up. He's expecting silence but to his surprise her temper has died down in the few hours he slept.

"Were going to meet the rest of the team who'll take us to our rooms then we'll meet the teams director. We were called in for an urgent mission so I suppose we'll head straight to that after meeting the director." She pants ever so slightly. Her bags almost touch the floor as she tries to suspend them all from her arms. He considers offering to carry a few but shes actually seemingly in a good mood, something he doesn't want to change.

They walk up the stairs to the building against the crowd. Most people move out their way as they walk past, noticing their huge bags. The few that dont meet Hope before they get in Scott's way. One of her skills is apparently being a battering ram. Everyone parts out of the way ahead of him which he is very grateful for.

Inside the building is less crowded than the green outside. He supposes it must be lunch time now so people will be outside getting enjoying their lunches instead of standing around inside the academy building. Without the crowds it's easy enough to cross the room to their destination.

At first it looks like a dead end but Hope presses a button on the side of the wall and the wall splits open. Hidden within is an elevator, completely invisible from the entrance way. How Hope knows any of this stuff is beyond him but he sticks close to her side in the hopes that she'll get them where they need to be.

The elevator travels upwards faster than any other hes been on. He'd always thought super spies would have great patience but judging by the speed of this thing he was wrong. They are certainly in a hurry to get to wherever this thing goes.

His stomach flips uncomfortably at the sensation. It's almost like weightlessness. It's too much like weightlessness. Butterflies crash into the walls of his stomach and begin trying to bring up his breakfast. The only positive of having a faster lift is that the doors ding open before he has time to throw up all over Hope. That probably wouldn't do much of her mood... Scott dashes out of the elevator as quick as he is able to as soon as the door is fully open and waits for Hope outside of the fast moving death trap.

Hope almost looks like shes about to smile when she catches sight of something in the distance and begins heading towards it. Scott looks around and catches sight of three people stood at the end of the corridor waiting for them. The new team mates. It appears to be two girls, one blonde and the other ginger and a blonde haired boy. The trio catch sight of Hope and Scott from across the corridor and run over to greet them. Hope walks over to Scott and places her bags on the floor gratefully. 

"Hey, I'm Bobbi." The blonde girl says as she reaches them. Her forehead is glistening brightly with sweat from her work out judging by her clothes. Her hair is pulled back neatly to keep it from sticking to her sweaty face.

She holds her hand out towards Hope first and shakes it firmly. Hope nods and smiles slightly, more than she's ever given Scott... Bobbi rounds on him next, letting go of Hope and holding her hand out pleasantly. She grips onto his hand for a few seconds, squeezing a bit too hard. Any harder and he would have a bruised hand, is that even possible? How strong is she?

"This is Natasha." She points the the ginger haired girl who's smiling politely from a respectable distance away. No hand shakes there then...

"And this is Clint" The boy steps forward and shakes hands with them both. He's dressed down in tracksuit bottoms and a crumpled old t-shirt. Unlike the others, he seems to have just woken up. 

"i'm Scott." He introduces himself as he lets go of Clint's hand.

"And I'm Hope."

"Nice to meet you both." Bobbi smiles genuinely and nods politely. Scott isn't sure what to do with himself. Was he polite enough? Beside her he's nothing more than a street rat.

"We should probably take you up to your rooms quickly then to drop off all your stuff. I'm sure you've heard that Fury already has a mission set up for us. We don't get much time to settle in, you're lucky you even get to come here first to be honest. I'll grab some of those for you." Bobbi picks up a couple of the bags.

"That's okay, I'll..." Hope begins but her complaining is quickly interrupted by Bobbi.

"I'm a super soldier, a couple of bags are nothing." She laughs jovially and keeps carrying some of Hopes bags.

"Do you want me to take one of your bags?" Clint offers, holding his hand out to Scott. Scott nods gratefully and hands the bag over to the other boy. He makes sure he keeps a hold of the backpack with the Ant-Man suit, despite it being the heavier of the bags.

Bobbi leads them all into the death elevator again. Stairs don't appear to be an option in this place. He'll have to find some soon or he'll be throwing up a lot during his stay here, however long that ends up being. In fact, he's about to ask about the stairs when a certain red head begins shepherding him into the death trap.

"Trust me, it gets better." Natasha whispers into his ear as they all step into the elevator, bracing for the ride.

Bobbi presses one of the uppermost buttons, floor 22 of 25. Almost instantly after the button has been pressed, the elevator goes rocketing up the building in record time. The elevator must be well over twice the speed of a normal one. You'd think after having a suit that lets you both grow and shrink he would've been used the sensation of suddenly rising or falling a long way but, contrary to what Natasha said, it doesn't get easier.

The doors open slowly but he roots himself down instead of rushing out as soon as possible. These guys are all cool heroes, he can't go around looking like a fool in front of them all. Eventually, they all traipse out of the death machine into another long, futuristic corridor to the rooms. Bobbi leads them all down the corridor of numbered dorms to rooms 188 and 189 near the end of the hall.

"What are your powers then?" Natasha asks, cleaning her nails with a small sharp knife. 

"We have suits. They can make us smaller while still keeping our normal strength." Hope explains, gesturing to the bag with her suit.

"They also let us become giant." Scott points out. Sure, getting small was fun but getting bigger was always a better party trick. It's a bit hard to show of his ability to become giant without giving away Hank's secrets though so he hasn't really had an opportunity to show off yet.

Clint and Natasha nods slightly, imagining the applications of that kind of technology. Sizing Scott and Hope up.

"What about you?" Hope asks, looking over at the other three team members. 

"Well I'm a super soldier so I'm stronger than a normal person and heal quicker." Bobbi says, gesturing to the light work she was making of Hopes bags.

"Me and Nat are pretty much normal. We had...unusual upbringings but other than that we're just your average people, no powers or suits or anything." A hint of bitterness slips into Clint's voice.

"He's pretty dramatic. We're not exactly normal. We have skill sets that will allow us to keep up with you three in the field." Natasha mumbles, tucking her knife back into her pocket and sighing loudly.

What kind of unusual upbringing lands you on a team of superheroes?

Before Scott had time to ask anymore questions they come to a stop in front of the rooms. Bobbi drops Hope's bags and pulls out two keys. She hands the key to room 189 to Hope first, then gives Scott his key to room 188. He clumsily takes the key from her and looks at his new door. This will be his home for the foreseeable future. No more cramped foster homes, dirty cells or overly large, drowning bedrooms. 

"All our rooms are all next to each other. I'm room 186, Natasha is 187 and Clint is 190, in case you need anything." Bobbi smiles politely and picks up Hopes bags again to move them closer to Hopes door, "We would give you a tour but we don't really have time. Fury has a pretty tight schedule set out for us all. You've got a couple of got a couple of minutes to put your bags down and get dressed and thats it." Bobbi nods slowly but doesn't leave or move, instead biting the inside of her cheek and shifting her weight from leg to leg. Eventually Natasha takes pity on her and grabs her friends arm to gently guide her to her own room.

"Well come by your room in ten minutes to take you to Fury." Clint tells them both before heading off in the opposite direction to the girls and quietly slipping into his own room next to Hopes.

The door swings open silently and smoothly as soon as he slots the key into the door. Its surprisingly large, considering the sheer number of rooms filling the building. He:d always thought that boarding schools would have tiny rooms. Maybe he should've tried to get into one earlier...

Theres a double bed to the side if the room in front of a large window, a huge desk, a wardrobe and a TV and couch in the room and there's still space to move freely. The walls are completely plain. A blank slate. In fact the walls are still freshly painted white. Parts of the wall are still wet with paint.

Scott creeps into the room, dragging his bags behind him until hes out of the doorway and it closes quietly behind him. There's a quiet click and then Scott is alone in his new home. He shuffles further into the room and lays the bags down in front of the wardrobe. His brain is whirling at a million miles per hour. What is he supposed to be doing again? 

Despite only having ten minutes he begins to unzip his bag. He needs to do something to wake himself up, something not superheroey. He doesn't think he could handle getting into the Ant-Man suit right now. Its all too much. Instead he picks up his clothes and haphazardly into the wardrobe. To be honest he doesn't have many but they make a big enough mound in the middle of his wardrobe. 

As he pulls away the clothes he notices something buried. This bag was supposed to only be fir clothes, with all his objects being locked up in his other bag. He pulls away the clothes covering the object to reveal a golden trophy. He smiles as he reads the inscription on the plastic plaque at the bottom: "Worlds best Grandma". It had been his present from Cassie while she was in the hospital. It had stayed with Cassie while he floated between homes, she must've slipped it into his bag while he wasn't looking. Without hesitation, he places the trophy in the centre of the desk on its own. He couldn't bring much with him - not that he had much to bring in the first place - so it'll sit there alone, proudly. 

He uses the desks draw to hold the other possession he hastily shoved in when he moved into the Pym's house. There are a few books and note pads that fit nicely into the draws, as well as the few possessions hes amassed, like his deck of cards, ant man weaponry, wash bag, laptop and photo album. Beneath all the other rubbish lays the Ant-Man suit, carefully folded and hidden away. He pulls it out and lays it on the bed gently, admiring it.

He should probably get dressed into it now...they'll be coming in to look for him soon. Instead he slowly walks over to the window and looks out at the rest of the campus. One other building is just about visible from his window, with the rest of the view being taken up by a huge forest that stretches off as far as the eye can see. Directly below his room, cobbled paths twist through the neatly kept lawns of the academy that connect all the buildings in a stone web.

Hes interrupted suddenly by the door opening. Clint is stood in the door with a paper clip in his hand thats still inside the lock of the door. Hes clearly self taught and not particularly well taught. Sure hell open some locked doors but no where near as efficiently as Scott could. He almost feels like he needs to sit down and teach Clint how to properly pick a lock. Instead he looks down at the key Bobbi had given him. Whats the point of having a lock on the door? Hes definitely going to need a better place to store the suit.

"You better suit up Tic-Tac, we need to go soon. Your friend is already waiting." 

Clint begins closing the door but before it can close fully he darts back in, throwing something at Scott. Scott just about manages to catch it by a hairs breadth. He opens his hand to get a better look at whatever it is. It seems to be some kind of earpiece.

"Stick that in your ear before we leave. Well need to be able to communicate when were on mission." Clint points to his own ears, "Trust me, I hate them too. Im not a fan of sticking machines into my ear not to mention they're uncomfortable as hell but they're important so we have to wear them." Clint nods slightly and darts back out again, letting the door close fully this time.

Scott breaths in deeply. He fiddles around with the ear piece in his ear. Clint was right, it is uncomfortable. He cant tell if thats due to the shape of the ear piece itself or if hes put them in the wrong way. 

Not even bothering to take off his clothes underneath, he pulls the Ant-Man suit on. They're tight on time and he doesn't need to undress. It clearly wasn't made with comfort in mind but having his clothes on underneath makes it much better. Hank made sure to make some adjustments in terms of size when he officially handed it down to Scott but it still isn't perfect. He keeps the mask down and examines himself in the mirror on the wall opposite his bed. Its not particularly subtle but just the sight of it gives him an adrenaline rush.

The ear piece buzzes loudly in his ear. He hits his ear with the palm of his hand but nothing seems to change. In fact, the buzzing only gets worse as he hits it further into his ear. He groans and pulls them out of his ears, instead sticking them in his suits "containment pouch" (its a pocket, no matter what Hope calls it). 

He swipes the Ant-Man weapons out of the draw and shoves then into his pocket as well. There are two types of small discs, the red and the blue one. One of them is for growing things while the others shrinks things. hes still not entirely sure which is which. Both Hope and Hank told him several times but somethings just dont stick. As far as his memory is concerned, blue is for growing and red is for shrinking.

He reaches for his room key before he realise he has no way to store it. He quickly shoves it in the pouch with the weaponry, cringing as it scratches the delicate surface of the tech. Hanks voice chides him from hundreds of miles away at the sound. Luckily those weeks with Hank taught him some useful skills, like how to drown out moaning, grouchy old men. He shoves the key down further to make sure the pouch definitely closes. Its a tight fit but he just about manages to get it closed.

Now with everything gathered and together, he slips out into the hallway. Others are already gathered - Hope and Bobbi - all geared up. Both of them are covered head to toe in weaponry. Beside them hes practically naked.

Its the first time hes seen Hope in her suit. Being Hanks daughter means Hopes suit is a thousand times more refined and efficient than his own. Her suit stands out even more than Scott's due to the wings and the bright yellow colouration. At least he wont be the only eyesore.

Bobbi on the other hand has a simple tight black jumpsuit that has a thick black, metallic belt round the middle. She has no apparent weaponry decorating her but the way she holds herself, and the way her finger brushes over her belt sends shivers down Scott's spine. He doesn't believe for a second that shes unarmed.

The two are talking quietly in front of Bobbi's room. Hopes holding some of the Pym tech in her hand, trying to demonstrate how it works. Somehow Bobbi is keeping up with all the quantum stuff. Hope might not have been on any actual missions before but her dad had certainly tutored her on all that physics rubbish. She always worked behind the scenes guiding him and telling him to do things in really complicated ways with strange foreign words. In Scott's opinion shes just trying to show off.

As soon as Scott steps his room, the room beside Hopes opens and Clint steps out. Hes got a sheath of arrows clattering on his back and a bow slung over one arm. hes dressed ridiculously in a dark purple suit with a overly dramatic point mask that reminds him of something from a 1960's comic book. One of his hands are clutching a baseball bat that looks completely out of place.

Bobbi stops chatting to Hope instantly and steps in front of Clint.

"You're not bringing that on the mission." She points to the baseball bat.

"Come on! I didn't get a chance to use it on the last mission!"

"I'm not going to go on a mission with you and that." She scowls and snatches it out of his hand with relatively little effort. 

Before Clint can make a move to retrieve his bat, the other girl: Natasha appears at the of the hallway. Shes geared up in a black body suit with guns hanging at her hip. For a government institution, Scott cant help but question the sheer number of deadly weapons they seem to employ. Natasha cant be older than 17 - not even old enough to drink, and yet here she stands decked out with military grade weapons with the intent to kill. Granted her situation is clearly...different.

"The quinjet is here." Natasha points over her shoulder back to the way she came. Not once had Scott ever heard of a quinjet. He doesn't pretend to be knowledgeable on what he assumes is aerial vehicles but it certainly doesn't sound like your everyday plane.

Scott begins to brace himself for another deadly elevator trip but they move in the opposite direction to it thankfully. Maybe they're taking the stairs. Without knowing exactly what the quinjet looks like its hard to know exactly where they're going. 

Natasha leads them all hurriedly through the twisting corridors to a huge hanger door. Its completely out of place amongst all the dorm rooms but at this point nothing surprises Scott. This place clearly doesn't have a normal architect. He cant tell whether the architect was a genius or a mad man. None of it seems to make any sense. None of it even seems physically possible.

"Welcome to the S.H.I.E.L.D academy hanger." Bobbi says as she presses on the keypad, making the huge doors automatically open, "Well, we have three hangers. Each academy has their own - in case of emergencies. Were the ones who go on the missions so we use ours a lot more than the others." Bobbi explains over the beeping of the door.

The room beyond the doors only has three walls. The fourth wall is completely open to the elements to allow planes in and out. There seems to be a door you can closed but right now it is open and allowing wind to billow into the room. 

Its deceivingly loud inside the hanger. From outside the doors you would think the place has been abandoned but inside its teaming with life. Students are having some kind of flying lesson inside some of the planes, practising whatever they can without actually taking off. Others are working with tool boxes on fixing the aircrafts near the edges of the rooms. There's even one plane that's actually turned on and working. Their plane.

The quinjet is clearly different to other planes. The wings are somehow folded up to allow it to fit into the room easier. Its got a sleeker design than than normal planes and is completely black. As Scott gets closer, he realises its not exactly black. Well its is, but the surface is made of tiny light bulbs that flicker slightly as he touches the exterior.

"Invisibility." Clint nods towards him, noticing the motion of his hand. "The bulbs change colour as we fly to make the jet invisible to the people below. Its very useful for us." He pats the side of the plane next to Scott, waiting for some kind of signal from the pilot.

"Invisible jets...I'm not even surprised at this point." Scott laughs, not sure how to react to this all. Hes stood in a hanger built into the side of a spy academy in a forest in the middle of nowhere.

"We can go in the jet whenever you want. The girls have already gone in. Were just waiting for the pilot to be ready." Clint nods his head to the rear end of the jet. Scott sighs slightly and follows the other boy into the jet. 

Whoever designed the glamorous outside of the plane clearly wasn't in charge of the interior. Unlike all the other planes Scott has been on, this one is clearly a part of the government or military. There are seats on the walls of the plane with heavy duty over the head straps. Inside is all panelling, loose wiring and metal beams. Nothing fancy. Hes not gonna lie, he hoped for more.

"Come on and strap in." Natasha says, tipping her head to the two free seats next to her. Clint takes the one closest to her and I take the seat next to him.

Hope is sat opposite my seat. Unlike in the car over, she acknowledges his existence with a slight tip of her head. She wriggle slightly under the pressure of the straps, not quite used to the feeling of the suit. It took Scott ages to get used to the feeling of just sitting in the suit as well.

"What's Director Fury like?" Hope breaks the silence suddenly. Clint, Natasha and Bobbi all look at each other, searching for the words

"He's...unusual for a leader. Pretty straight to the point." Bobbi says, fiddling with her straps.

"I think the word for that is blunt." Natasha mumbles, her voice holding steady and clear.

"He doesn't trust anyone and doesn't try to hide it." Clint scoffs. Although his words sound harsh there's a fondness behind them.

"Sounds like quite a man." Scott mutters.

"You'll understand when you meet him." Clint says confidently.

Suddenly the quinjet begins to shake. The heavy duty straps make sense all of sudden. It doesn't seem like it's going to be a smooth journey.

"Here we go." Natasha sighs, gripping onto her own straps.

Sure enough the quinjet begins to take off, presumably flying right out of the open door into the sky beyond. It feels like its flying straight up into the sky. Much like many of the people at S.H.I.E.L.D, the pilot doesn't seem to be wasting any time getting us to the director.

Scott bites down on his lip and leans back in the seat. His head vibrates violently against the hard metal headrest. What's the point in having a headrest if its this hard and uncomfortable?

"Don't worry, we're not going too far this time. Our destination is pretty close." Clint leans over and whispers. Scott nods slightly, trying to make sense of what direction they're travelling in. Without windows its surprisingly hard to figure out.

Clint wasn't lying. They only fly for around twenty minutes before landing. After the first few minutes the turbulence dies down and the quinjet stops flying in strange directions. After those first few minutes Scott's stomach calms down and the urge to vomit fades away. Even so, he's glad when they begin landing wherever they are landing. 

As soon as the engines switch off all the others start unclipping themselves from their seats. Scott follows suit, freeing himself from the tight bindings. He wouldn't have wanted to fly without them but that doesn't make them comfortable.

The door to the quinjet lowers slowly, revealing the world beyond. It is as if they're still in flight, the sky still filling the view beyond. There is no way they're still flying though...

Scott stands up and takes a good look outside. He wasn't exactly wrong. They are still flying but the quinjet isn't the thing flying. They've landed on some kind of flying base.

"They call it the Helicarrier." Clint says. He walks down the ramp onto the surface of the Helicarrier. Scott follows him down expecting to still feel the rumble of engines underfoot. However it feels no different to the normal land that is miles beneath them. It seems S.H.I.E.L.D isn't messing around when it comes to their technology.

"It's amazing." Hope's eyes sparkles as she drinks in the view, "I've never seen anything like it before." She mumbles. 

"We'll have time for that later. Now we need to go meet Fury." Natasha says, leading them all towards a huge central station where Fury must be. 

If Scott thought that the academy was technologically advanced then he has no idea what he's supposed to call this. It's beyond anything he'd thought possible. Huge computers fill the room, surrounding a huge podium where a man is stood domineeringly. Huge glass windows surround them giving them an unrestricted view of the sky beyond. 

"Mr. Lang and Miss. Pym, welcome aboard the Helicarrier." The man in the middle turns around to face them. He's nothing like Scott was expecting. One of his eyes is covered by a black eye patch that only just covers the ugly scarring from whatever caused the injury.

He's not dressed in a suit as Scott had been expecting, instead he's wearing a long, black, trench coat. Somehow he manages to look both comfortable and casual while also maintaining an air of authority and deadliness. 

"It's amazing." Hope mutters, still looking around the room, dazed.

"I would give you a tour but the mission comes first. I don't know how much longer the targets will be in place." Fury says, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. His voice carries around the room loudly without him needing to shout.

"Targets?" Scott frowns. He didn't sign up to kill anyone.

"It seems we have a lot to talk about. I'll make it brief." Fury begins pointing at certain people around the room, causing everyone to jump into action. The entire Helicarrier begins gliding through the air, cutting through the clouds to some unknown destination.

As soon as the Helicarrier is under control Fury turns back to the five of them, arms still crossed.

"What do you know about mutants?"


	11. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Defenders partake in their first mission but run into some trouble in the form of two powerful mutants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a bit late, my internet is kinda broken (not really sure whats happening to it) so I wasn't able to upload anything! Hopefully this wont happen again, fingers crossed.

_21/01/2016, 06:02_

Growing up, everything had been quiet in the Pym household. The lonely kind of silence that sticks to the walls of empty rooms in big houses. Things hadn't always been that way of course. When her mother had been alive there was laughter and light in those bleak rooms, things like that don't tend to last though. Even when her mother was alive her father had been quiet but after her death it was like he didn't exist. Or maybe it was like Hope didn't exist. By now she was well versed in the feeling of the silence - she'd made her home within it.

Yet this was something new.

She was surrounded by people, her new team, yet the silence still hung tersely. There were the engines of the quinjet whirling around her yet the silence refused to break. Even Scott's inconsiderate snoring couldn't break the empty feeling surrounding them. No, surrounding her. 

Scott had only been with them for a few weeks but it had felt like a lifetime. He tends to have that effect. They'd completed a few minor missions together but never quite like this. Hope was never on the front lines. She'd always been controlling the mission. She was always able to see and know everything that was happening and plan accordingly.

Was this tense silence always lingering inside Scott before each of his missions? Looking at him now, sat opposite her sleeping soundly, she couldn't bring herself to believe that. For a convict and a thief he's fairly honest - genuine even. That tended to make it harder to hate him. Ever the optimist.

Anyway, this feeling wasn't fear. Not quite. If she had to name the feeling she would say it was uncertainty. It seems S.H.I.E.L.D functions very differently to her father when it comes to missions, as was to be expected. What she hadn't prepared for was how it felt to not be able to see the entire puzzle. To be nothing more than a piece in the jigsaw. It gnawed at her mind. The empty gaps and uncertainty. It seemed she was no longer in control.

"You not able to sleep either?" Natasha asks, fiddling with her knife calmly. Around them, the others are all resting in the few hours they have left before they touch down in Russia. The flight is only 4 hours or so but they left in the evening meaning it was four hours of sleep they were missing. Somehow, despite the heavy duty straps and metallic seats the others were able to doze off during the flight. Better to start the mission well rested I suppose.

"I'm not very good at sleeping while travelling. The noise tends to wake me up." Hope says quietly - not wanting to disturb the others. Despite the distance they were travelling they didn't have much time left before they arrived. These quinjets weren't just made to look flashy, they were faster than anything Hope had flown in before. The others deserved their beauty sleep even if Hope couldn't get hers.

"Despite what Fury says there is still a lot to think about before this mission so someone should stay awake and plan. Besides, the view is always great at this time." Natasha unclips her straps despite the firm ground rules we'd been set by the pilot. She pushes herself up off of the chair and walks over to Hope, holding her hand out for Hope to take.

"Don't worry about the pilot. The quinjet is pretty stable despite the speed, it's not going to do any harm if we get up to stretch our legs."

Hope doesn't even bother arguing, unclipping herself and taking the other girls hand. It's surprisingly petite and almost frail. If it wasn't for her rough calloused skin giving away her strength she would be worried about hurting the other girls hand. Natasha pulls her gently over to the window beside the ramp at the back of the quinjet.

From their seats the view was completely hidden but as they got closer she began to see what Natasha had meant. Clouds span out in every direction, covering the entire sky in a fluffy, white sheet. As the sun rise it spills colour across the clouds, staining them. The colours form a gradient, almost as if they'd been carefully designed and drawn with pastels on a piece of paper.

Sure, Hope had been on planes before but never for pleasure. Her and her dad didn't look out the window all that often. There was always some other pressing matter to attend to. There was no denying the beauty of the view though. Certainly something worth staying up for.

The clouds begin parting beneath them to reveal icy terrain surrounding them. Nothing man made as far as the eye can see. Trees seemed to line the ground below to form a gigantic forest of ice that stretches out to the horizon. A river is visible, slinking between the trees. Hope catches sight of it between the trees every now and again.

"What are we flying over now?" Hope peers down at the strange new terrain that the sun is rising over. She'd seen snowy countries before but this felt more wild somehow.

"Russia. We can't be far from our destination now." Natasha mumbles, fiddling with the knife again.

"Russia...I've never been. Is it nice?"

"Depends what you define as nice..." Natasha mutters slightly, hardly audible. She shakes her head slightly, "It's lovely. Colder and bleaker than America but...more natural. I've been away for a while now - not quite the homecoming I'd been imagining."

There's a flicker of something underneath those words. Dread? Relief? Uncertainty? It's hard to tell with Natasha, she's not exactly normal. It's as if she's a blank slate, nothing is even there to try and read. Whatever training Clint had said she received had clearly done more than just prepare her for S.H.I.E.L.D academy. Maybe that's what qualified her for this team. Hope felt a pang of sadness looking at Natasha's blank face. What had been done to her to make her this way?

"Welcome home then."

"Welcome home indeed," Natasha whispers. She crosses her arms and leans against the side of the ramp leisurely. Hope notices her biting the inside of her cheek slightly as she looks down upon Russia below them.

Bobbi begins to stir behind them, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Scott's snoring has stopped as well. Perhaps it was their talking or the others just have a knack for knowing when they're about to land but they all seem to be slowly waking.

"We should probably get back into our seats before Bobbi wakes up and decides to give us both a lecture. I should probably change soon too..." Natasha says but doesn't make a move to go and sit back down. Instead both of them stand there watching the sunrise for a few minutes more, basking in the warmth dripping through the window.

~~~

_21/01/2016, 06:20_

“There’s nothing quite like the smell of dead bodies in the morning.” Clint grumbles.

Even though they’d left S.H.I.E.L.D in the evening the sun had only just risen in the sky. They’d flown half way across the world to Russia in barely 4 hours - something Clint hadn’t thought possible outside of far fetched Sci-fi novels.

Natasha is stood beside him, as stoic and controlled as always. He can’t even begin to imagine what this is like for her though. She’s spent the last few months trying to escape from her life here only to end up back where she started.

This time she’s not in her usual Black Widow get up. Both her and Bobbi were given tattered old clothes to change into, the kind that match the attire of the dead bodies surrounding them. It turns out Fury has a lot to say on the matter of their attire. He must’ve traded notes with Natasha because he’s burnt Clint's old, handmade Hawkeye suit and swapped it with a sleek new stealth suit. It was all made by the genius’ down at the Science and Development academy so who knows what strange gadgets are undoubtedly hidden in it. 

“Do dead people always smell this bad?” Scott gags quietly, sealing his nose with an iron grip. 

“Sometimes they smell worse.” Natasha pulls out her gun. Her voice is calm and serious but there’s a mischievous spark in her eyes, “Its only going to get worse from here. Pretty soon these bodies will be fully rotten, it’s a smell you’ll never get rid of.” 

“Ignore her. You’ll get used to the smell soon. Let’s go.” Bobbi steps in and places a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

She points at the towering building in the distance. It’s one of the only ones still fully standing. All the others have been burnt down or blown up in some manner.

Clint grips onto his bow tighter. He’s still not fully used to the feel of the bow. While he worked at the circus he used old worn wooden bows that had moulded to his hands years ago. Despite how much he’d been itching to use the bow he still hasn’t had a chance to practice with his new one, everything has happened too quickly. The metal frame of the bow doesn’t help either. It might be sturdier and better in the long run but it’s going to be hard to wear in. 

Hope steps forward, her suit making it hard to read her face. The style is very similar to Scott’s ant man suit (they must’ve been designed by the same person) except for the colour change from red and black to yellow and back and the addition of wings. It isn't hard to guess which was the favourite out of those two.

“We all know the plan then?” She looks pointedly at Scott. 

“What are you all looking at me for?” He asks incredulously. Clint hasn’t known Scott for particularly long but if anyone’s going to go off plan it’ll probably be him. 

“We all believe in you. It’s just you have a very vital part to play.” Bobbi smiles adopting her ‘big sister’ mode as Clint likes to call it.

“Can we get this over with? I’m tired and want something to eat.” Clint groans. His leg is half asleep from sitting strapped into a quinjet for 4 hours. This is not how he had hoped he would be spending his day. Fury is going to get an earful when they get back from their trip. He still doesn't see why Fury keeps acting as if these are missions only they can complete. Surely some other agents could take their place on this mission. Why did it have to be them?

Natasha takes the first step off of the quinjets ramp onto the ashen street. She cautiously steps over the bodies littering the streets and begins making her way towards the last standing building. The others follow after her, each of them walking around the bodies to try and quietly stalk their way into the center of the city. The quinjet had to land on the outskirts of the city in order to keep mostly unseen. It sounded good in theory but now he's seeing how much walking that leaves them. They stick to the smaller, more shadowy alleyways they can find, attempting to stay as hidden as possible.

Buildings are completely wrecked on all sides. Rubble is strewn across the street, blocking their path in places. It gets easier to avoid all the obstacles as they get closer. The bodies become less and less frequent until the streets are completely free of bodies. People must've been rushing to the outskirts of the city before they died. Fury gave them a quick debrief of the mutant situation but this was like nothing he'd seen in the news.

Sure, there were fringe, violent mutant groups but none of them did this kind of stuff. None of them murdered cities full of people over a safe. What could be inside that is worth all this death?

Soon enough voices become audible in the streets. They're still far away enough to not be a problem but it's too difficult to carry on walking through the streets as they had been before. He looks over to Natasha, giving her a curt nod.

“All of you stick to the plan and it should all go fine. Don’t worry about our side, just keep your head in the game.” Bobbi gives both him and Scott a stern look - apparently having decided Hope was trustworthy enough to be free from her wrath. 

Bobbi takes Natasha's hand, squeezing gently. Natasha squeezes back and hands her remaining weapons over to Clint.

"Don't lose these." She 

"I wont, scouts honour." Natasha rolls her eyes but seems satisfied enough with his response.

She quietly stalks away out of the shadows into the streets ahead of them. Bobbi is pulled along behind her for a few seconds but quickly regains her position at Natasha's side with the help of her super soldier muscles. 

Clint looks away from them, putting them to one side. He doesn't have time to think about them or how they're doing. Everything has to go exactly right for this plan to work. Not one thing can go wrong. Clint has full faith in then all - now if only he could get his mind to believe it. 

“I know none of us have ever worked together like this before but we can’t afford to mess up now.” Clint says seriously, dropping his light hearted tone, "You have to stick to the plan as much as possible. Stay close to me at all times and don't wander off because that's how people get killed. I know this whole situation would be much better if we had been able to have more than one conversation before being thrown into the fire but that's not how its gone down. We're defenders now, all of us, and that means we need to grit our teeth and make the best of all of this so just try not to get killed in the first minute okay?" 

Both Hope and Scott nod curtly almost in synchronisation. Clint isn't entirely sure how well the two actually know each other. Sometimes it appears that they've spent a lot of time training together, judging by their in depth knowledge of each others preparations and their synchronisation as well as their matching suits and abilities. Other times it's as if they just met in the taxi over here, both uncomfortable and twitchy around each other. Hope hasn't spoken a word to Scott in all the time he's seen them (which is admittedly not very long). 

They both begin examining their suits, checking them over one last time before they all jump into the fray. Scott looks over to Hope before squeezing his hand gently seemingly pressing a button of some kind. Hope makes a similar motion, completely ignoring Scott and keeping her eyes focused on the horror show surrounding them. Suddenly both of them suddenly vanish as if into thin air. Clint stops for a few seconds, scanning the area for the pair before spotting them both hovering in mid air exactly where they were before only 100 times smaller. 

"You know, somehow that wasn't what I was expecting when you said you have suits that make you shrink." Clint ponders, taking a closer look at the barely visible pair. He doesn't know what he was expecting but this wasn't what he'd been picturing.

Hope is fluttering gracefully on two transparent wings he hadn't even noticed she had. Scott on the other hand is riding a tiny flying ant he hadn't noticed what there. He supposes that there must be ants everywhere, even a place like this in the middle of this massacre. Ant-Man is the right name for him after all. The two miniature agents fly over to his shoulder, perching happily on the edge of his padded suit beside his quiver. 

"We're ready Hawkeye. Lead the way." The tiny Scott mutter to Clint. Somehow despite Scott being in tic-tac mode his voice is still clearly audible to Clint. It's gotten to the point where Clint doesn't even bother questioning these things anymore. Things are only getting weirder with every passing day. He's not an idiot by any stretch of the imagination but trying to wrap your head around all this is already tough enough - sometimes you just need to accept these things and move on. Dwelling on every strange impossible situation won't get him - _them_ \- anywhere.

"Hold on tight. We don't want either of you falling off before we get there." He gives them both a few seconds before heading off over the buildings to the towering center of the city. 

~~~

_21/01/2016, 06:45_

Bobbi was already regretting every part of this plan. Fury was well known to have some pretty reckless plans but who knows what he was up to now. Even for a spy organisation Fury took this 'secret' part quite far.

"This better work..." Bobbi sighs, gripping onto Natasha's hand more fiercely. If she's squeezing too hard then Natasha doesn't show it, not that she would.

"Have faith сестра." Natasha smirks one last time before shedding the skin that is Natasha for a young scared Russian girl trying to stay alive. 

The people they'd heard before suddenly come into view as they walk into the main road. They cautiously peer around the corner of the building to assess the situation - if you can call the movement cautious. In reality it was anything but - sloppy and unprofessional. Exactly what the situation called for. 

Sure enough, one of the people spot them and calls out for backup. Natasha and Bobbi dart out of view, running back through the back alleys to lead the guards away. They slow down slightly to allow the guards to catch up to them. Someone has to help them out after all. Soon enough the sounds of footsteps are right behind them, gaining with every second. 

Natasha is grabbed first. The closest guard reaches out and grabs a hold of some of the loose material of her shirt, yanking her backwards. She yelps loudly, like a wounded animal and begins sobbing. Bobbi twists around, reaching out for Natasha desperately. In a few seconds they've grabbed a hold of Bobbi too, twisting her arms behind her back and chaining her up. Handcuffs, really? Ugh, this is going to require more effort than originally thought. Handcuffs are always so tedious. 

One of the men laughs, gripping Natasha's face to make her look at him. She tries to pull her face out of his grips but she's drained all of her strength away, letting him man handle her like a piece of meat.

" _We got ourselves some pretty little ones_." The man holding Natasha drawls in Russian.

" _Leave her alone!_ " Bobbi shouts at him in Russian. It seems learning Russian was a good choice. She strains against her own captor, trying to reach Natasha to offer her some support. 

" _This ones got some fight left in her_." One of the other attackers says, scanning Bobbi for any weapons. They made sure to give all their weapons to Clint before going off on their own, the guards will find nothing out of the ordinary if they search either of them. Bobbi supposes they'll have to pick up some weaponry before meeting up with Clint and the others again. This list of tasks is getting slowly longer...

" _The others will want to see these two._ " A new guard walks over to them, completely serious. Unlike the others, his eyes don't wander and his hands are firmly attached to the gun at his side. At least one of guards has some dignity. 

" _We'll take them up now, see what they know._ " The one holding Bobbi straightens up, reminding himself where he is.

Both men begin dragging the girls back through the alleyways towards the last standing building. Bobbi keeps struggling against the man, searching for purchase with her feet. She thrashes her head back every now and then, trying to hit the man holding her with her head. A good headbutt from her would be enough to knock him out. Natasha has taken a slightly more...resigned position. She allows herself to be carted off without so much as wriggling. The guard holding her pays her next to no attention, keeping his eyes fixed on Bobbi, checking that she isn't going to escape.

That's his first mistake...

The other guards part as they get closer to the tower. No one stops them or even questions them. None of them seem to be taking this seriously. I suppose it's easier to let your guard down when you've killed everyone in the city. They don't think there's anyone around for miles to challenge them or fight to get in. Why would anyone want to get in anyway?

Soon enough they've passed through all the security and actually reached the doors to the tower. There are less guards in the tower than there were outside. With all the snow around you'd think they would've been allowed to take shelter inside. Instead they seem to have all been banished outside into the elements leaving the warm building completely desolate. 

Bobbi patiently waits as the men lead them into an elevator, struggling every now and then to keep their attention on her. As soon as the elevator doors close they spring into action. Natasha punches the man holding her in the jaw, catching him off guard. The upper cut was enough to knock him out, his eyes rolling back and his body slumping over. Natasha digs a knife she was holding into the man restraining Bobbi's arm, making him let go of Bobbi. He pushes Bobbi away from him, trying to knock her out by hitting her head against the elevator walls so he can focus on Natasha. 

That was mistake number two...

Bobbi's head throbs but it isn't quite enough to knock her out - super serum is good for that kind of thing, even if it is less potent than what Captain America was juiced up with. Bobbi smacks the mans head against the wall with her super strength, knocking him out instantaneously. She picks him up and punches him in the face anyway - you know, for good measure...you never know...

"He deserved that." She says in response to Natasha's questioning glare. He certainly did deserve it, he was an arsehole.

The elevator doors ding open to reveal a group of mutants stood outside the open doors. They look stunned for a second but quickly raise their weapons to aim at Bobbi and Natasha. Of course things couldn't go to plan. Bobbi and Natasha raise their hands slowly, sighing slowly. It's down to the others for now then...hopefully they don't get everyone killed. 

~~~

_21/01/2016, 07:14_

Clint heaves himself up over the edge and rolls onto the gravelled roof of the last standing building in the city. His hands are grazed and raw from hauling himself up the side of the building and over all the roof tops but he's dealt with worse. He can't cloud up his mind with anything except the mission.

Natasha and Bobbi are somewhere beneath them infiltrating the building and are relying on the three of them in case things go askew. They all knew the risks of coming here but he'd rather leave with a complete team instead of having to find new replacements for lost members when they get back to the academy.

He prays that Scott and Hope are still securely on him shoulder but he assumes the lack of protest from either of them is a good sign. Hopefully. Neither of them have spoken at all since they set off which he assumes is nerves but it could be anything with those two. 

He walks over to the center of the roof, scanning the area for any kind of security but it all looks pretty unprotected. There are a few security cameras but they've all been shut down during the massacre that occurred. The first thing the attackers should've done once they claimed the building is reengage the security camera. Clearly someone was getting cocky. Perhaps it was just plain stupidity but he supposes there isn't much difference.

Clint reaches into the pouch on the side of his suit and pulls out a tiny pocket sized screwdriver, the kind you get in Christmas crackers. Despite calling it tiny its still huge compared to Scott and Hope. He quickly unscrews the cover of the ventilation system on to the roof and discard the cover. The looming shaft looks smaller than he'd expected - he should still be able to fit down though. He's gotta hand it to his dad, he might've been a shitty person but at least his small frame has given him this advantage in life. if he had any more meat on his bones or muscle mass he'd never wriggle his way through the tight gap.

"You two okay up there?" Clint whispers as quietly as he can. For a few seconds there no response, sending Clint's heart into over drive but sure enough a small voice peeps up.

"We're both fine. Don't worry about us. Just get us close enough to the door and we'll handle the rest." Hope says sternly, her voice calculated and even - easily masking her nerves.

"Good good. This is about to get real tight so you might want to hop off and walk yourselves through the vents once we're down." He swings his legs over the shaft, balancing on the lip of the entrance.

"Here goes nothing." He sighs, taking a deep breath in.

Without giving himself time to think he pushes himself over the edge, allowing himself to 'gently' slide down the side of the shaft until it straightens out into a normal ventilation system. He presses his arms against the walls in an effort to slow himself down and make the sound of the drop less noticeable. Thankfully it seems to mostly work, dulling out his landing from a crash into a deep thud.

His legs ache from the harsh landing as well as seemingly every other part of his body. He stretches out as much as possible in the immensely constrained space allowing his joints to click loudly. He wriggles his body around, trying to lie flat down on his belly so he can army crawl through the shaft. It's pretty tight but after a few seconds he manages to get himself free and in the right position.

As predicted, Scott and Hope hops off his shoulder in front of him and walk through the shaft themselves. The whole process looks much easier when you're smaller than an ant.

"A miniaturising suit looks pretty damn desirable right now. Neither of you happen to have a spare lying around?" He groans, wriggling awkwardly through the system, "It's always vents. Every time."

There's no noise in the rooms beneath them, only the sound of Clint shuffling and the trio's breathing. Every sound is amplified by the vent, something Clint is extremely conscious of. He tries to muffle the sounds as much as possible but it's harder than it sounds to quieten your own breathing.

Before too long other sounds except for their own begin to appear. There's the sound of arguing in some other language. His first thought is Russian but it doesn't sound like Natasha at all. The language is much more guttural and is nothing like he's ever heard before. It could be Russian but he doubts it.

He motions to Scott and Hope to stop as they come to a grate. They're both small enough to fit through the slates that make up the grate so they stand well clear of the actual gaps, relying on Clint to be their eyes into the situation down below. 

There's a few people down below, all strange looking. Mutants. Some have strange coloured skin, others have horns or other strange assortments of features. Clint kinda feels sorry for the guys. Everyone has kinda head about the mutant situation by now. They're not really that different to Bobbi, after all she's enhanced and different, yet they get treated like monsters. No wonder they turn to murdering people (not that it's right...).

The voices seem to be coming from another room behind a thick iron door next to this one. The ventilation system doesn't seem to be going through to that room though. The argument also sounds completely one sided - like someone yelling at a brick wall. No one in the room seems to be reacting to the voice, they're perfectly happy doing whatever it is they're doing.

He begins to push himself backwards through the tunnel, ushering Scott and Hope along with him. They need to discuss the situation before they jump straight in and they can't talk freely so close to the ears of the people gathered in the room below. Once they're fully out of range of the people he turns to Hope and Scott.

"There are at least six guys down there ready to alert anyone nearby if we drop down unannounced. They seem to be guarding a door of some kind. I have no idea whats behind it, we'd have to knock out all the other guys in the room just to get a look inside." Clint sighs, "I can't go down there without attracting the attention of everyone in the room. You're the only ones who'd be able to get down there and knock everyone out without alerting these guys buddies. I'm going to need you both to drop down through the grate and take down as many guys as possible so I can drop down. Got it?" It's kinda hard to see but both of them give short sharp nods, not bothering to vocalise their responses.

They quickly walk over to the grate and drop down into the room below. As soon as they go out of sight time seems to slow down. Waiting for the action to happen is the worst. It's so much harder when he can't even see his team mates, he can't tell if they're both okay or if they got squished by one of the guy's boots or something. He shifts around slightly to try and get a better view through the gratings of the mutants in the room below.

Suddenly they began falling one by one. The first man simply fell to the ground as if he'd been knocked out. Without knowing the full weaponry of Hope and Scott he couldn't be sure which had knocked him out but that didn't really matter.

The second man collapsed as if he'd had his feet knocked out from under him and managed to knock over two guys standing next to him. They all scrambled to find their assailants but found absolutely no one. Then one by one, each of the three was knocked out by one of their batons that seemed to have gained a life of it's own and was walking around knocking people out.

Before the other two could raise the alarm they both dropped down unconscious (this time no animated batons were involved though). All that was left in the room was six unconscious men slumped over on the floor and each other. These suits were much cooler than Clint had given them credit for. 

Scott and Hope quickly return to their normal sizes and beckon Clint down from the vents. He obliges, pushing open the grate and swinging himself down and out so he stood beside the pair. Hope is already headed on wards towards the voices they'd heard earlier. She stands in front of the code locked door, trying to get a gauge of the situation. The person inside is still yelling, probably the reason they didn't hear the people being knocked out by Scott and Hope.

By the time Clint and Scott have reached Hope the sounds have changed. Instead of shouting it sounds like a fight. None of them are armed judging by the sound of hand to hand combat. Whoever is in there is an enemy of the mutants which means they could be one of S.H.I.E.L.D's allies, if they have any outside the american government.

"We need to get it open to help whoever is in there!" Clint says, trying to get a better look at the lock. It's an electronic lock that needs a nine digit code. Lock picking was one thing but this was a different thing entirely. Electronic locks were quite a bit above his skill level.

"Let me." Scott pushes them both aside, moving towards the lock and fiddling with something. Fury had mentioned something about him being an ex-convict - Clint hadn't quite believed it when he met the boy but it's clear he's well trained. Probably a thief or something of a similar calibre.

The sounds inside the room have stopped completely. No one is talking or fighting, there's no way of telling who won. They have to be prepared for anything when that door opens. Clint pulls out his arrows and loads his bow, aiming the arrow at the crack where the door will open. Hope looks over to him and quickly shrinks, positioning herself in a similar place and arming herself with whatever weapons it is she uses.

The keypad lights up green, unlocking the door. Scott steps back begins pulling the door open slowly, letting Hope get a good look through the crack at the scene beyond. Someone from inside the room is ready though and shoves the door open as soon as Scott has opened it a crack. It comes rushing towards him and hits him in the face, making him lose his balance and fall backwards onto the floor. Clint is about to let loose his arrow when a familiar red head becomes visible in the doorway.

"Nat? What they hell are you doing in there?" He frowns and lowers his bow and arrow slowly.

"Things didn't quite go to plan...they did take us straight to the safe though so we did succeed I guess." Natasha says, lowering her arms which had been raised in preparation for battle.

"We thought you were the guards, sorry about that." Bobbi says, helping Scott get back onto his feet. He presses a button on the side d the helmet and it lifts up to show his face once again. Hope does the same making it easier to talk.

"We've taken care of all of them." Hope says coolly. She steps into the room Natasha and Bobbi had been in, examining to room and unconscious mutant.

"For now at least. They'll wake up soon enough though so we should get a move on." Clint says as he walks into the room. 

There's an unconscious man slumped over in one of two empty chairs. Blood is trickling down his forehead but he's still alive. This must've been the Russian that was yelling earlier.

The room is smaller than he'd thought - not much space is left outside the area the two chairs that Natasha and Bobbi had been tied to occupy. It seems to be a glorified (kinda square) hallway to the safe door. It's huge and even tougher than the door they just came through. There's an electronic lock again but this time it requires a retinal scan to open instead of a password.

"Can you get it open?" Clint turns and asks Scott who has walked over to examine the new obstacle.

"I probably could but it would take time. Besides I have a quicker way. Fury said he needed me and Hope's suits for this mission right...well I think this is why." Scott steps back from the door and closes his helmet again. "I become a superhero and somehow I'm still just breaking into places and stealing things..." He sighs.

He slowly steps back and begins running towards the door, shrinking as he does. He slides across the floor in his shrunken size and manages to just about slide underneath the door into the safe beyond.

"Well that's one way of doing it..." Natasha mumbles, keeping her focus on the unconscious mutants outside the room. Standing guard for them while Scott raids the safe.

They all wait quietly, keeping an eye out for the mutants that surround them. Hope quickly drags the man who'd been interrogating Bobbi and Natasha out into the other room with the other unconscious people to make it easier to keep an eye on them all.

"What was he even asking you?" Clint asks after a few seconds.

"He wanted to know how to open the safe. He seemed to think we'd been sent by the owner to retrieve whatever is inside the safe." Bobbi explains. 

"Who is the owner?" 

"No idea. Fury didn't tell me anything. Need to know basis." Bobbi shrugs, remarkably okay with not being told things. Clint really liked the guy for some reason but that didn't mean it didn't piss him of when the guy kept information from them like this.

Finally Scott pops out from under the door, his hands empty. His eyebrows are creased and his eyes narrow as his opens his helmet to talk to them.

"What did you find?" Hope asks, seemingly forgetting that she'd been ignoring him since they arrived.

"The entire safe was empty except for this weird electronic box thing. I had to shrink it to take it with me but I've got it in my pouch. I'll show you it on the quinjet."

"Are you sure you didn't miss anything?" Hope hounds him, biting her bottom lip.

"I'm certain." Scott says bitterly.

"Sorry if I don't take your word for it. You don't have the best track record." She hisses. Maybe she didn't forget she was angry with him after all...

"Guys, we have visitors." Natasha says, picking up one of the mutants guns and aiming it at the newcomers. Around about ten of them have just arrived - two for each of us. All of them must be mutants but it's impossible to tell what their abilities are since they're not physical mutations.

Everyone else jumps into action, Hope and Scott close their helmets and shrink down. Bobbi snatches up a gun and takes aim just like Natasha. Clint reloads his bow with stunning arrows that Fury had granted him for this mission. It clicks into place perfectly making the loading stage much faster than usual.

Against his better judgement he follows Natasha out into the other room. In an enclosed space it gets kinda awkward fighting with a bow, especially when you have allies in your very close proximity. Being so close to Bobbi was only going to end in disaster. Instead he steps out into the fray, firing one or two arrows before turning to good old hand to hand combat. Maybe all those early morning training sessions paid off after all. Hopefully after this he'll be able to finally get some decent lay ins. He's technically graduated from the SHIELD academy now so he has no more lessons to attend, he could bump training up till midday and just sleep until really late every day...

He's snapped out of his thoughts as one of the mutants fires a shot of electricity at him. He just about manages to dodge but it fries the very edge of his suit and his sheath. Luckily the dark fabric makes it hard to notice so he can probably go on without needing to get it mended. 

The others seem to be holding their own well enough. With the exception of Natasha and Clint, there is no real coordination though. Bobbi moves to dodge a fire attack only to bump into Hope who is flying at head level and accidentally gets tangled up in Bobbi's hair. Scott knocks over a mutant that can make his hands change size only to knock him into Natasha and make her lose her balance.

The entire thing is a mess.

Just when Clint though it couldn't get any worse a blue disc comes whizzing towards him. Well, technically it came whizzing towards Natasha but she quickly ducks leaving him directly in the line of fire. The disc must have come from Scott because the second it hits Clint he begins shrinking. It's a horrible sensation, like when you go on a roller coaster and your stomach falls out of your body. He can feel his stomach straining to release its contents in the form of shrunken vomit.

Everyone is suddenly huge. Every time one of them moves their foot Clint is certain it's going to crush Clint into a pancake. He dashes from side to side, trying to avoid the electricity and fire and sand attacks that are flying across the room at an alarming rate. If this is how it feels to have one of those crazy suits then Clint is glad that all he has to use is a bow and arrow.

"Clint?!" Scott shouts out from what might as well be miles away considering his size and the battlefield raging around them.

"Scott!" Clint shouts out, trying to run towards the boy. The movement catches Scott's eye and he quickly pulls his ant around to fly towards Clint who is still trying to avoid being crushed.

"God, I'm so sorry! Everything's going so badly. I've got a disc that should be able to fix you." Scott rummages in his pouch and pulls out a red disc that is almost identical to the one he hit Clint with. As soon as the red disc hits him he begins growing back to his original size again. Somehow the growing is even worse than the shrinking. Every part of his body feels like its being pulled in order to stretch his body back to the right size.

His eyesight is blurry for the first few seconds as his body tries to adjust to the new situation. As soon as its cleared up he's left staring at an empty room. No, empty is the wrong word, people are strewn about unconscious on the floor but no one is awake. The fight has ended. Natasha, Bobbi and Hope are all unconscious on the floor as well but there's no sign of their attacker.

Clint stops and loads his arrows cautiously. He is off the playing field for a minute and this is what happens. A gust of wind blows through the room, scattering the papers that were on the counters around the room. Before Clint can react hes knocked over by some unseen force. Is the attacker invisible? Does he have tech like Scott and Hope?

He wastes to time sitting up and raising his bow and arrow once more. Scott is just about visible, perched on top of Clint's arrow to get a better look at who the attacker might be. 

The next attack comes from behind though as two hands touch either side of his head gently. There's no malice in the touch - its warm almost sisterly. Red mist grabs a hold of him. Drowning him. It swirls around the hands that are gripping his head like waves lapping at the shore. Darkness overwhelms him and he falls into unconsciousness, leaving Scott alone.

~~~

_21/01/2016, 15:18_

"Hope? You need to wake up now!" Hope is roused by a familiar, irritating voice.

"Go away Scott...I'm sleeping." She drawls, not wanting to open her eyes. Everything is so warm and fuzzy, why would she want to wake up?

"You need to wake up now, you've been sleeping for hours!" She has half a mind to grab her pillow and smack him around the head with it. Hopefully that would shut him up. Wait...her pillow? Right now her head isn't resting on her warm, soft pillow...in fact quite the opposite. There's hard, cold stone underneath her and her head is resting uncomfortably against a piece of gravel. How the hell did she get here?

She's not even got her own covers. Instead she's dressed in something tight and constricting which does nothing to fend off the cold. Now that she's more awake she can feel the chill biting at her viciously.

"Where the hell am I?" She asks drowsily. She begins to open her eyes but instantly regrets it when the bright morning sun blares right into them. Her eyes instinctively crumple up to avoid the bright rays. Hope never thought it was allowed to be this bright when it was this cold. Seems she's gotten the worst of both worlds in this situation.

"We were on a mission in Russia, remember." 

"Oh yeah...we'd just finished fighting when this girl came in." The memories begin coming back to her. They'd won the battle but the girl had come in and instantly knocked out Natasha with her red smoke. Hope had tried to fight her off but it was no use. They didn't give her any chance to shrink down or use her stings. Not her...them. There were two of them. The other one had been nothing more than a blur though. They'd taken Bobbi down almost instantaneously. The last thing she remembers is the red smoke wrapping around her and dragging her into unconsciousness.

Hope sits up and tries to open her eyes again, having slightly more luck this time. Her eyes don't sting quite so much allowing her to keep them open this time. She examine the new surroundings which definitely aren't the building she'd collapsed in. It looks like one of the broken buildings they'd walked past earlier when they first arrived. What Hope had thought was gravel seemed to be small pieces of rubble that were scattered across the room. 

Natasha was already awake, sat on the exposed edge of the building with her legs dangling over the ledge. She's still in her tattered civilian clothes which make her look years younger. The light shimmers around her, belittling her and reverting her back into a child.

"You guys were all taken out." Scott explains, pointing at the unconscious bodies of Bobbi and Clint. They're lying next to Hope, each side by side. There's a space next to Bobbi where Natasha must've been lying before she woke up.

"What happened after we were knocked unconscious?" Hope puts her hand against her head. It's weird, her head is still kind of fuzzy. There's a kind of warmth to the feeling that is almost pleasant if it hadn't been caused by a creepy mutant girl with red smoke. 

"I managed to fix Clint but you guys were all already unconscious. We hadn't seen the battle so we didn't know what had happened to you all. The girl managed to knock out Clint relatively quickly with those powers of hers but she must not have known I was there because her and the boy just left. They looked around for the metal box thing that I had taken out of the safe but gave up pretty quickly when they realised it was gone. I would've tried to fight them off but I didn't want to risk them finding the box so i stayed quiet until they left." Scott explains. For once it seemed he had made the right choice and not the rash one. Perhaps her and her father had taught him well after all.

"How did we end up here then?" 

"You were all unconscious like the other mutants we'd defeated. Since they hadn't been knocked out by that creepy mutant I wasn't sure how much longer they'd all stay asleep so I dragged you all out of the building and found a way to sneak past the defences and take shelter in one of the houses. Just now SHIELD sent a message to Natasha saying the quinjet is about to land and pick us up so we decided to wake you and the others up." Scott points at Natasha. If Hope didn't know any better she would think the other girl was sulking in her little corner.

"You couldn't have chosen nicer accommodation." Hope grumbles slightly, feeling the soreness that accompanies sleeping on the floor. Surely one of these houses had a room with actual beds in it so they didn't have to sleep on the floor.

"There wasn't exactly much time to look for five star accommodation." Scott rolls his eyes.

Bobbi begins to shift around at Hope's side. It seems they're all waking up naturally at the right time. Scott walks over to both of them anyway and quickly shakes them awake and explains the situation.

"The quinjet will be landing in the same place it dropped us off so we should begin moving now. We don't want to keep S.H.I.E.L.D waiting any longer than we have to." Natasha says, getting up from her spot and brushing her tattered clothes down.

"They did keep us waiting for hours in this dilapidated building so who really cares about what they want right now." Hope mutters. She'd assumed the quinjet was standing by nearby, not going off and leaving them on their own. What would've happened if it had gone sideways and they were being chased through the city by angry mutants?

"Whatever, they're here now and that's all that matters." Clint stretches and massages his head slowly.

They all gear up and begin slinking through the back alleyways once again, even more cautious now. Hope had been expecting to hear the mutants patrolling the area as they had before but there's not a whisper of them. It's as if they all packed their bags and left. Maybe they did. It's better to be on guard though, especially when those two mutants from before could still be lurking around in thee city.

It takes longer than Hope remembered to get back to the quinjet. Perhaps the building Scott had chosen was further from the quinjets landing site but it still felt dramatically longer. Every step was effort and her head still hadn't quite recovered from the mutant girls powers. The other seemed to be feeling that too. Normally you wake up from sleep feeling more refreshed than when you had gotten into bed but this was the opposite way around.

When the quinjet finally came into view they all rushed on board and strapped in. Despite the churning of the engines and the uncomfortable seats Hope could feel her eyes closing and her mind turning off. This time her body seemed to think sleeping on the quinjet was a great idea, despite how impossible it had seemed earlier that day.

Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't had time to process it all. At first she hadn't thought they'd done so badly but it's pretty clear now that they'd almost completely failed their first mission. If it wasn't for Scott getting and keeping that metal box then they would've completely failed. A super soldier, two trained spies and herself had all been taken down in seconds by the girl and the boy. It had been easier than taking candy from a baby. Maybe they'd all gotten too cocky and not fought back hard enough. Maybe they'd let their guard down too much. It was clear now the five of them were not enough for these mutants. If they wanted any chance of winning it would seem that the Defenders would need a new member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> сестра = sister (in Russian...in case that wasn't clear)
> 
> We've gotten to the point where characters can begin being added. It's taken a while but it's finally reached that point. Anyone got any guesses for which major character is going to be added next chapter?


	12. The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is sent on a solo mission to recruit a new member into S.H.I.E.L.D and the Defenders.

_24/01/2016, 21:30_

Natasha had never actually been to India, let alone the city of Kolkata. She'd gone to quite a few different countries while still working as a Black Widow, even though she hadn't graduated then. She'd never had time for sight seeing but from just driving through the city she could see why people would want to come here. The city of joy indeed.

Their destination, as usual, wasn't the cultural, bustling city center but the slum outskirts of the city. S.H.I.E.L.D mission planners must have something against visiting nice places...

The house Fury had chosen could hardly even be called a house. After spending so much time in America Natasha was beginning to forget how bad living conditions could be in other parts of the world and that was considering the time her and Clint had spent on the streets. 

The walls were made of scrap metal, all loosely stuck together to keep a vague shape. The same metal sheets have been thrown across the top of the 'walls' to stave off the elements. Better than sleeping out in the open she supposes. Thin, rotting beams of wood are the only thing keeping the entire house from collapsing in on itself. Loose pieces of fabric hang across the entrance as a substitute for a door. Insects have eaten away most of the fabric but thin strands still hand meekly across the open doorway.

Natasha holds up her hand, signalling to the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents. She hadn't argued with Fury when he announced a whole S.H.I.E.L.D team would be joining her on her mission. She'd read the file and seen the footage, any backup was more than welcome.

They stay behind without argument. As she walks over to the gathering of people across the road from the house, they begin getting into position. Luckily the cover of night will keep them all hidden in their black stealth suits. Fury had everything planned out to the last detail. The fate of their team depended on this recruitment, everything had to go perfectly. 

As Natasha gets closer a young girl walks over, no older than seven years old. She's smaller than most seven year old's and bonier. This must have been what Natasha looked like to other people when she was this girls age.

" _Hello, have you seen this boy_?" Natasha gently asks the young girl in Bengali. It's not one of her primary languages but she's got enough of a baseline knowledge to get by. She hands the girl a surveillance picture of a teenage boy. The new recruit.

He's not particularly strong or scary looking, actually quite the opposite. He's weedier than most boys his age and meeker. His timidness doesn't really fit with his abilities or his upbringing. He's virtually indestructible with his big green friend around. What's there left to be scared of? What a dumb question. She knows better than anyone that there more to fear out there than what others can do to you. Especially when there's something monstrous inside you.

The young girl nods but doesn't say anything. She has hardened features, trained to make the best of every situation. She had already known this girl wasn't going to give anything away for free though, one look at her clothes and living conditions was enough to tell her that. She reaches into a concealed pocket in her dress and hands a wad of money to the young girl. 

" _He's a doctor_." The girl says, counting the money carefully. Her thin fingers wrap around the money tightly, crumpling the money slightly in her fist.

" _Could you bring him here? I'll give you more money. I need to talk to him but he can't know we're here. Do you understand?_ " Natasha asks, holing out another identical wad of money. The girl reaches out for the money but Natasha pulls it away at the last second, " _You'll get this after you've brought him here._ "

" _Okay. I'll bring him._ " The girl nods, dashing away without even waiting to hear Natasha's reply. Her feet kick up dust behind her making her even dirtier than she was before.

Natasha turns around and nods to the S.H.I.E.L.D teams commander. He quickly relays the message to the rest of the team. Their guest would be here soon and they needed to be prepared.

While they get ready for their guest she begins fulfilling the next part of her mission. She walks across the road towards the ramshackle house. As expected, it's deserted. Fury had said he would convince the occupants to leave the house empty for the evening to allow Natasha the privacy to do her own thing. 

She pushes aside the worn fabric covering the edges of the doorway and steps into the empty house. Somehow the house seems much bigger on the inside, she would almost call it spacious. There weren't enough possessions to fill the rooms or make it homely. 

There's a small table in the middle of the room. She pulls out one of the old garden chairs and takes a seat. It could be ages until he arrived, there's no point in standing around waiting for him. 

She reaches into the small concealed pocket in her dress and pulls out her gun. It feels strange to only have one weapon on her, especially considering the situation. She can't recall the last time she'd been this vulnerable. If everything is to go to plan though she can't go around waving weapons at prospective recruits. People don't tend to respond positively to guns.

Instead she lets her fingers roam the underside of the table in search of the holster. Sure enough, gun as Fury had said, a holster has been attached onto the underside of the tabletop. She might not be able to have a gun visible but you would have to be dumb to walk into a mission like this with no weapons at all in reaching distance. The gun fits nicely into the holster, a small clip holding it in place. She'll just need to stay in reaching distance of the table if things start going sideways.

"Agent Romanoff, everyone is in position now." A voice crackles in her ear. She'd almost forgotten the small earpiece was in her ear, she was used to the feeling by now, Fury liked to stay in touch during missions. 

"Good, he shouldn't be too far away now. Keep everyone focused." She presses the button on the earpiece, allowing them to her her. Surprisingly Fury had decided to give the recruit and her some privacy, only allowing the others to hear her if she presses the button on the small device. For once there would be no one leaning over her shoulder and monitoring her every word. For all Fury's talk about not trusting anyone, especially not ex-Russian assassins, he's certainly shown more trust in her than most people. 

"Do you need anything else? Any weapons?"

"No it's fine. The gun should be enough. Hopefully there'll be no need for any weapons."

"That's quite optimistic of you. You've seen the footage. You know what he is." The voice on the other end hisses.

A monster. He's a monster. Only good at destroying and killing. Most of the people gathered outside wouldn't be willing to give the guy a chance. He could kill them all in a second, why would any one trust that? Who could trust some who is only good for killing?

"I know exactly what he is Agent. Do you know who I am?" She keeps her voice calm and emotionless, the perfect mask. There's no response from the other end, just static silence before the transmission is ended and silence falls once again, "That's what I thought." She hisses under her breath.

~~~

It takes thirty minutes for the girl to finally return with the recruit in tow. Natasha is stood by the window when she spots them. He must have bought the little girls lie, whatever it was. Perhaps the girl has a future as a spy, she certainly has the spine for it.

Natasha pulls the scarf that is wrapped around her shoulder closer. Despite the darkness outside, it is still warm. The humidity from earlier has faded slightly leaving the pleasant warmth of the air.

The girl leads him into the house, still running. She spots the wad of money left on the table and runs to grab it, adding to her fist full of money. She doesn't slow down at all, not even to grab the money. Instead she grabs it mid run and vaults out of the window without so much as a goodbye.

"Should have got paid up front, Banner." Banner mutters, looking at the window the girl jumped out of resignedly. His back pack is hanging half off of his back, halfheartedly. 

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle." She quietly walks over to him while still maintaining a safe, respectable distance between them.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"Then what is it? Yoga?"

Natasha stands up straight, holding her head high. Confidence is half the battle. Banner clearly doesn't agree with that saying though. He's pacing the room, eyes darting around in search of an exit. In search of any way to escape without a direct conflict. He rings his hands slightly, unable to keep them still for a single moment. 

"You brought me to the edge of the city, smart. I uh...assume the whole place is surrounded?" He peers through the window, searching for the concealed S.H.I.E.L.D agents outside the house.

"Just you and me." She smiles sweetly. Threatening someone with a whole team of specially trained S.H.I.E.L.D agents isn't normally the best way to start an alliance, even if that person can turn into a giant green monster.

"And your actress buddy, is she a spy too? Do you start that young?"

"I did." Natasha's voice softens.

In reality she'd started younger. The younger the child was the better an agent they'd make. It's hard to properly train someone who's already grown up being coddled and taken care of by their parents. Maybe that's why her and Clint made such good agents...

"Who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out for everyone." Once upon a time that might have been her goal. Go in and neutralise the threat. Even now she had a gun tucked under the table and a whole squad of people with big guns aimed at the house. It's not like he knew who she was though. He had no clue what kind of person she was. What kind of person she had been.

"No. No. Of course not. I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"S.H.I.E.L.D? How did they find me?" He chuckles slightly but there's no light in his eyes.

"We never lost you. We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent. You might have been well prepared for life on your own but you're still under 18 and there are a surprising number of people out there who have been trying to make claims on you. People who believe your expertise are rightfully theirs. Since you went on the run SHIELD have been doing their best to keep you out of those people's custody."

"Why?" He forces his hands to his sides and finally meets Natasha's eyes. They're old eyes. Too old. Even from this distance she can see the darkness writhing underneath the surface. The monster lurking below. His face, this face, is just a mask covering what's really inside him. Maybe they aren't that different after all.

"Because SHIELD believes everyone has the right to make their own decisions, even if the law seems to think you're under 18 so you need someone else to make your decisions for you."

"What makes you think I am trustworthy enough to make my own decisions?" His voice is hardened, losing some of the soft calmness it had earlier.

"Nick Fury seems to trust you and that's enough for me. I'd like to think he's a good judge of character."

"Why have you come here now then? What do you want from me?"

"We need you to come in." Natasha takes a few steps closer, inching towards the table. This is the part of the conversation she has been dreading.

"What if I say no?"

"I'll persuade you." She smiles seductively, trying to keep on his good side.

"And what if the...other guy says no?"

"You've been more than a year without an incident. I don't think you wanna break that streak." She says confidently, praying that it's true. If the Hulk made an appearance she doesn't know what they would do. Lots of good S.H.I.E.L.D agents would certainly be killed and they would definitely lose any chance they had with Banner.

"I don't get everything what I want."

Natasha slowly walks over to the table and takes a seat. Banner stands in silence, watching her cautiously, keeping an eye on her every move. Once she's sat down she gestures for him to join her at the table. He takes a few steps closer but doesn't take a seat opposite her, instead choosing to stand beside the table. 

"No, you don't. But you've not had an incident in a year which doesn't sound like someone who wants to kill people to me. That girl called you a doctor which sounds to me like someone who wants to help save people. Not a monster."

"Then what is it you want from me?"

"I'm a part of a team, we call ourselves the Defenders. We've got...special abilities and tackle missions that are too difficult for normal teams. We were on a mission recently and were defeated. It made us realise we need more backup. Fury thought your expertise in weaponry and scientific knowledge could be of use in our labs to try and create some ways to deal with these new threats."

"So Fury isn't after the monster?" Banner raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms and standing up straight. 

"Not that he's told me."

"And he tells you everything?" Natasha doesn't fool herself into believing Fury tells her everything. He doesn't tell her much really. He tells her what she needs to know to be useful. There is no one he tells everything to - that's not the sort of person he is. Yet somehow Banners question knocks some uncertainty loose. She'd thought Fury was starting to trust her but what proof does she really have that he trusts her at all?

"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this." She shakes the doubt loose. Who even cares if Fury doesn't trust her. Why should he trust her? Right now she's on a mission and that's all that matters.

"He needs me in a cage?" Natasha's hand begins inching towards the gun hidden under the table. She needs to change this conversation topic right now.

"No one's gonna put you in a..."

"Stop lying to me!" Banner yells, slamming his hand down. Without thinking she grabs the gun from under the table and jumps up from her chair. She aims the barrel directly between Banners eyes. A killing shot. He might have a big green monster inside him but a few bullets between the eyes should at least slow him down a little. 

Voices begin shouting in her ear, demanding to know what is happening. Blood pounds in her ears, drowning out the sounds of their voices slightly.

Banner removes his hand from the table, stepping back to give Natasha some space. There's no sign of any green on his face, just the same sun kissed skin he had before. No big hulk appearances tonight then. She still can't bring herself to lower the gun, the adrenaline still running hot through her veins.

If Natasha didn't no better she would say he looked smug. The slight smile on his face would be smug on anyone else. 

"I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do." Banner pulls out the chair in front of him and sits down opposite Natasha.

"Why don't we do this the easy way, where you don't use that, and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay? Natasha?" Natasha nods slowly, watching Banners moves cautiously. She lowers her gun slowly, lowering her guard again. 

"Stand down. We're good here." Natasha says into her earpiece, pressing down the button and alerting Banner to the presence of the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

"Just you and me, huh?" He says, amused. He knew just as well as she did that there were S.H.I.E.L.D agents hidden in the darkness outside.

Natasha retakes her seat opposite Banner, keeping the gun visible on the table. Her fingers brush against it slightly, keeping it ready for an emergency. There's no point hiding it anymore so she might as well keep it close.

"What makes S.H.I.E.L.D different from all the other people you mentioned before then? To me it sounds like you're exactly the same as all the others."

"Because we're trying to help people. We go out there and protect people from the dangers of the world. Despite what you must think of us we have the peoples best interests at heart. The boy that came running to help a poor Indian girl and spends his time healing people isn't the kind of boy that can go to bed without feelings of guilt and regret over the people he killed. This would be good chance to do something to even the scales."

Nothing changes in Banners face. He's still frowning, questioning SHIELD and it's motives. Fair enough, she supposes. They didn't just bring armed men to a meeting with him.

"Look at this." Natasha reaches into her concealed pocket and slides a leaflet across the table to Banner. He doesn't even bother taking the leaflet from the table. He inspects the front of it slightly but shows no sign of moving.

"The S.H.I.E.L.D academy has three departments. I graduated from the operations department with my friends but there's also the science and technology department. You could join the academy if you wanted. They'd give you a room and food and access to all their resources. You'd be safe. If you didn't want to help my team then we wouldn't make you but you could still join the academy."

Banner sits up slightly, reaching out to pick up the piece of paper and examine it for himself. He bites the inside of his cheek, turning the paper over in his hands a few times.

Who knows where the leaflets actually come from. As a secret organisation SHIELD can't exactly go around handing out leaflets. Coulson had cornered her on her way out of Fury's office and handed it to her. He said she should at least recruit him to the academy, even if she couldn't convince him to join their team. 

"So what do you say? Are you ready to join S.H.I.E.L.D?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so short, I had some other ideas but none of them were really working so I scrapped them. It didn't help that the chapter kept deleting and messing up (ugh technical problems are the worst).


	13. Helicarrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The defenders are sent to deal with the growing threat of the Brotherhood and come face to face with the Maximoffs again.

_25/01/2016, 06:01_

Bruce had never seen anything quite like the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. He'd spent years working on military projects in state of the art labs and bases but S.H.I.E.L.D was completely new. For the first few minute or so upon landing on the helicarrier he was too amazed at his situation to process the dangers of being trapped thousands of meters in the sky.

Him and Natasha had been ferried into a quinjet mere minutes after their less than pleasant conversation. Whatever this mission was that they wanted his help with it was clearly time sensitive. They'd wasted no time what so ever, not even to explain the situation to Bruce. 

One minute he'd been waiting in the dusty village surrounded by soldiers armed to the teeth and the next he was being hurriedly strapped into quinjet. Ever since his...accident that had left him as the Hulk he'd made a point to avoid enclosed spaces where he could put others at risk. If he hulked out in the small space he'd survive, the hulk always did, but the same couldn't be said for the others. Natasha and the pilots would be killed.

And he would go one living.

He always went on living. _Always_. At this point he almost didn't believe he'd ever be able to finally die.

Despite the speed of the quinjet, it took them hours to actually arrive at their destination. Their destination was half a world away and even S.H.I.E.L.D's tech couldn't completely eliminate that travel time.

Natasha had gotten up and changed into a black leather stealth suit during the flight, unable to wait to get out of her dress. While he'd thought she looked comfortable and at home in her fancy dress and shawl it was now clear how wrong he'd been. Dressed up in her battle gear he could see her muscles relax and her eyes stop darting around the room. 

She'd tried to get him into one of S.H.I.E.L.D's special suits but that was going a step too far. He'd take himself off the streets and help them with this mission but he wasn't one of their soldiers. The Hulk might be a fighter but neither him nor Bruce would ever make a good soldier. Not the way S.H.I.E.L.D wanted them to be anyway. 

When they finally arrived on board the Helicarrier he could almost sigh with relief. At least until he realised the Helicarrier was floating. I had taken him a surprisingly long amount of time to come to that realisation. He'd barely noticed the rumbling of the engines underfoot until he'd looked out at the horizon and seen they height they were at. 

"Are you sure this is safe?" He mumbles, grabbing onto Natasha's arm to get her attention. She stops instantly, turning around to look at him with wide eyes.

He couldn't quite get a read on her, she was well trained and he suspected, not by S.H.I.E.L.D. There was something less rigid to her. While the other agents strutted around with straight backs and well practised manoeuvres, she was wild. Every movement was instinctual and calculated, not memorised. Trained into her with a tough hand. He should know. 

He'd never been this close to her, she'd always made sure to keep out of touching distance of him. Smart. But now, being so close he can see things he hadn't noticed before. Dark bags underlining her wide, green eyes. Her eyebrows are kitted together despite her usual cool facade. There's a hint of the girl who didn't hesitate to pull out her gun back in that village. The scared child beneath the mask.

"Of course it's safe. It's been up here for ages with no system failures. The technology is designed by the best." She looks away from him, examining the Helicarriers deck. She doesn't dare pull her arm out of his reach but strains meekly against his grip. 

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He quickly lets go of her, stepping away to give her some space.

"There are...precautions in place." _Precautions_? Of course. If he changed shade even slightly they wouldn't hesitate to neutralise the threat. Neutralise _him_. 

"Why am I not surprised? Trust S.H.I.E.L.D to set precautions to neutralise a teenage boy without a second thought." Natasha grits her teeth slightly, searching for words, "Don't bother." He interrupts Natasha's pointless attempt and fixing the situation. It's not like he's surprised. Not really.

She nods slightly, relaxing her jaw and straightening her back. Without wasting another second she continues weaving through the crowds towards the control room. He follows her quietly, letting the sounds of the Helicarrier do all the talking.

It was amazing that it could keep so much weight suspended. There were hundreds of people on board as well as all the quinjets ready and parked along the runways that made up the upper deck of the Helicarrier. Below them there's also the control room with all it's heavy machinery also being kept up in the air. Judging by what little information he's been given there must also be a lab or two somewhere beneath them.

While most of the rooms are below them to make space for the runways, there is one building on the surface of the Helicarrier. It's not particularly large, not when you consider the size of the Helicarrier, but there quite a lot of people pouring in and out of the limited number of doors. Natasha is leading him directly towards the building which means it must be the way to the lower decks of the Helicarrier which would explain the torrent of people leaving it. 

She pulls a badge from her belt and presses it against the scanner as they approach the door. They slide open silently revealing the dark hull of the Helicarrier. Every agent they pass moves out of their way without a word. It's hard to tell whether they're all avoiding Natasha or him. From what he's seen so far he wouldn't be surprised if they were avoiding her and all her guns.

There's a set of stairs leading down into the depths of the ship. It's lighter inside than he'd been expecting. They must have window's of some sort on the outer walls of the hull because it is no different to any normal building. He can almost fool himself into believing he's not underneath tonnes of metal floating in the sky. 

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, Mr. Banner." She announces as they step off the stairs into the control room. 

"It's doctor actually...Dr. Banner." He mumbles. He's used to this kind of reaction. No one expects someone his age to be a doctor and even the ones that know have never been comfortable calling him Doctor.

He pulls his glasses out of his pockets and looks around at the new environment. From just a cursory glance it's clear that SHIELD spared no expense when building this place. There's state of the art computers one each of the desks that covers the control room and holograms floating seamlessly on many of the surfaces. There's a podium in the center of the room that looks out of the huge window that spans the entire length and height of the room. The view out of the window is almost dizzying.

"Nice to meet you then, Dr. Banner." A girl steps up in front of him, holding her hand out towards him. He reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for a proper introduction, "Agent Bobbi Morse." She holds herself like a solider rather than a child. A proper S.H.I.E.L.D soldier through and through.

There are three other people at her side. They must be the team that Natasha had mentioned. The Defenders. They don't look like much, there's no sign of anything superhuman about any of them.

How is he supposed to work with in a team with these people, even for one mission? Whatever Fury is up to it seem more like a random chaotic mix up to him. 

"Agent Clint Barton." The boy who's dressed in a similar stealth suit to Natasha and Bobbi says. He doesn't offer his hand and instead begins fiddling with his arrow head absentmindedly. 

"I'm Scott Lang." The other boy steps forward and thrusts his hand towards Bruce. He takes it cautiously, uncertain of his enthusiasm. Him and the other girl stand out from the others with their crazy suits that have none of the stealth factors that the others have.

"Hope. Hope Pym." The last member steps forward and holds her hand out politely, "Your work is amazing. I've read all your work. My dad and I are scientists - we mainly work on a quantum level and your work is fascinating." A scientist? 

Chaotic mix up is definitely the right word for this team. Bruce isn't the only odd one in the pattern. While Bobbi, Natasha and Clint are S.H.I.E.L.D agents, Hope and Scott look like they were grabbed out of a random school at last minute.

"Um...thanks. It's rare to find someone our age actually interested in science." He gives her a warm smile, relieved to find someone who's not quite so...S.H.I.E.L.D, amongst the group. 

"I was raised into it. Family business you might say." Hope's eyes brighten slightly. She's still got some of Scott's childish excitement but it's suppressed. More mature. 

Before any of them can speak, two men approach them. They couldn't be more different to one another. Strangely one of the men kind of reminds Bruce of Scott with his dopey grin and optimistic eyes. Still filled with hope. Alive. The other man has none of that optimism. He's already frowning when he approaches them and makes no effort to greet them. He's got an eye path covering one eye and is dressed casually compared to the other man.

"Nice to finally meet you Banner. I'm glad to see Agent Romanoff convinced you to come." The man with the eye patch says, keeping a fair distance between himself and them, "I'm Director Fury and this is Agent Coulson." He keeps his hands in his trouser pockets. 

"This isn't permanent. I'm not one of your soldiers you can use when you need. I'm here for this mission but only this mission. After that I'm done. I've got enough blood on my hands as it is, Director Fury." Bruce shoves his anger down deeper into his heart. He has to keep the beast down and sedated. To keep all the agents on board the Helicarrier safe and alive.

"Then we'll make the most of the time we have with you now." Fury doesn't raise his voice but it's as if he has, "You'll be wanting the labs then. You've got a lot to get done before we arrive on site."

"How long will that be?"

"There are around 24 hours until the team will be ready to move out."

"What exactly do you need me to work on?" Bruce folds his arms.

"There are a few on going projects that could do with your input. Any ideas of your own that could be used in a fight against mutants would be useful too. I don't get involved in that side of the mission but the scientists in the lab will go over everything with you. Coulson will take you down there now while the others head off to finish their training." Fury nods to Coulson and steps out of his way.

"A tight deadline then." Bruce murmurs. Tight deadlines aren't anything new. When he was working in the military's labs he's been pushed to find solutions in a matter of hours more times than he can count. These big organisations love to rush everything. Push everything to the last minute.

"I hope that won't be a problem, Dr. Banner." Fury raises his eyebrows and folds his arms. Bruce doesn't even bother answering. He's got nothing more to say to Director Fury. Instead he walks toward Coulson, prompting the other man to start leading the way to the labs.

Bruce waves goodbye to the Defenders as the new agent leads him further and further away from them. Longing hangs in Hopes eye for a few seconds as she watches them leave for the labs. How long has it been since she was allowed to spend time in a lab? How long have SHIELD been keeping all her focus on training. Soon the moment has passed, leaving her to follow the other Defenders to their training space. 

"Are you going to be joining the academy after this?" Coulson asks, patiently. If Fury is the commander of the Defenders then Coulson must be the father. There's a parental atmosphere around him that's refreshing after the harsh tone of Director Fury.

"Yeah. There's not much point in running off again. Fury is just going to fly all the way in to the wilderness to find me if he needs me anyway. Maybe this way I can focus on finding a way to get rid of this thing inside me." Banner murmurs, massaging his palms absentmindedly. He keeps his eyes focused on his hands, not wanting to have to look at all these people he's putting at risk. Sure he's not angry right now but feels like another second he's putting people om danger.

"You'll like it there. You could get another PhD if you wanted." Bruce chuckles. IT's strange, it had been so long since he actually thought about work and PhD's and science. He'd been running for a while now, he'd completely forgotten how it felt. Sure it wasn't a normal life but compared to what he had before it felt normal. 

"Yeah maybe...two PhD's." Bruce releases his hand and lets his arms fall down to his side. "My dad would be turning in his grave. What a pretentious son he raised." Bruce mutters to himself, not wanting Coulson to hear. Luckily the sounds of the Helicarrier are enough to drown out his words.

"I'm sure you'll do great at the academy, even if Fury is annoyed you're not joining the team." Coulson smiles and stops in front of a door that must lead to the lab he'd been told about, "Here you go. I've got work to do but the scientists are very friendly, I'm sure they'll all be more than willing to help you out with whatever you need." 

The door to the lab opens as he approaches signalling his entrance to all the people inside the lab. Coulson flashes another smile before walking off back towards the control room and leaving Bruce alone with the lab. 

"Hello there, you must be Dr. Banner." A girl walks over to him, smiling widely. She's about to offer her hand to him when she realises she's holding two vials of bright blue, bubbling liquid, "Sorry, I've kind of got my hands full right now." She laughs and beckons Bruce into the lab.

"You look young to be working in the labs." She must be sixteen - around the same age as him. Her eyes are still bright and wide as she bounces around the lab with her vials of liquid. 

"Oh, I don't work here. I'm Jemma Simmons, I just attend the academy. I'm here on a field trip of sorts. A chance to work in the field. It doesn't feel any different to the academy though." She finally sets her vials down in a test tube rack and gives Bruce her full attention. 

"Have they told you what we're supposed to be working on?" Bruce asks, looking around at the new lab.

Compared to the dark pallet of the rest of the helicarrier, the lab is completely white. Most of the counter tops are white to match the walls and floors but are flooded with all kinds of clutter and a million different projects. Sure, it's chaos and yet somehow it's organised chaos. There are a few darker coloured holotables dotted around the room with people working on them but no one pays them any attention. Everyone is completely absorbed in their own projects as if him and Jemma don't even exist. It reminds him of his life before all this mess. It's like home. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D wont be so bad after all.

"Oh, yeah...yeah...let me just..." She mutters, darting around the room in search of something. "Here!" She says, thrusting a stack of papers into his hands. He flicks through a few of the pages, skim reading each to see what he can help with. There are more projects in the pile than everyone in this room could do in 24 hours.

"We better get started then..." He says, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

God, he'd really missed this. 

~~~

26/01/2016, 09:06

It felt to Bobbi like no time had passed between this mission and the last. So much had happened so quickly making it all feel like one long day. All her sleep had been in short bursts, just enough to keep her running between moments.

Their mission had been clear enough proof that their teamwork was appalling. Unsurprisingly, shooting your teammate and shrinking them to the size of an ant doesn't really count as a success for the team.

Ever since that failure they'd been locked down in the training room. Even the most basic team training had really taken Hope and Scott a long way. Hope was already, surprisingly, well versed in hand to hand combat. Her dad was clearly more than just a scientist. Sure, it wasn't exactly S.H.I.E.L.D training but it was better than many of the current recruits in the academy. 

Even now after the days of preparing she didn't feel ready. They had improved but the mutant's they'd met in Russia had been trained as well. Their abilities are the kind that are easy to combat in the middle of a battle. She'd just have to put her faith into Bruce and whatever devices he's cooking up in those labs.

They'd spent the entirety of the last 24 hours training and sleeping - barely making time to eat. They'd all decided after the extended training sessions they deserved a solid 12 hours of sleep before beginning their mission so had all passed out on their bunks without bothering to eat. They'd all been assigned to one joint bunk which didn't have anywhere private to get dressed. It might have been awkward if they weren't all exhausted and covered in bruises. No one had the energy to be embarrassed anymore.

Now they were getting ready to leave, suiting back up into their freshly cleaned suits. She was willing to bet that Coulson had sent someone by the armoury to sort out their suits for them. At least they didn't need to go into battle in smelly, sweaty suits. It's the little things that count. 

Despite their long sleep none of them look well rested. Each and everyone of them have dark bags lining their eyes. Clint's eyes are still half closed, drifting shut every few seconds. Under the bright light of the armoury they all look sickly. The mix of dark bags, pale skin and bruises makes them look almost as bad as they feel. 

"You look like shit." Fury announces, standing sinisterly in the doorway. His arms are folded as he glares at each of them. Bobbi hadn't even noticed him walk in, he wasn't made the director for nothing. 

"You're always such a pleasure sir." Clint drawls, leaning back against the locker he's resting against. His eyes are completely closed now as he searches desperately for sleep.

Fury reaches behind his back and pulls out a box of snack bars. Without any warning he throws one at Clint's head. Clint manages to bring his arms up and catch the bar seconds before it can collide with his face without even opening his eyes. If it had been anyone except Fury they would've shown the slightest bit of amazement or surprise, but as usual, his face remains stoic. Fury throws a bar at each of them with a surprising amount of success considering how exhausted they all are.

"You need to wake yourselves up before the mission. I can't send you all down there like zombies - you'll be killed in seconds if you keep this up."

"That's easy for you to say. Do you even sleep?" Scott groans. He tears open his snack bar and devours it in a few seconds. Bobbi opens her own bar and find it gone just as quickly as Scott's. She hadn't realised quite how hungry she was until she ate. She'd managed to distract her body from the hunger but now the empty feeling in her stomach was rising to the forefront of her mind.

"There's more food waiting for you in the control room. The quinjet is taking off to take you to the ground in twenty minutes so don't waste time." Fury announces before leaving with a swoop of trench coat.

"Ughhhh, is he even human?" Bobbi groans as she forces herself onto her feet. Every movement causes her body to ache and groan but she's actually on her feet again. The promise of food is more motivational than she would've expected. 

"No way. He must be some kind of robot." Hope mutters, walking over to Bobbi with Scott and Natasha trailing after her dozily. Clint stands up from his space beside Bobbi and joins their little line heading off to go find this promised food.

"It better be good food." Natasha grumbles. Bobbi's stomach grumbles in agreement. Being a super solider definitely has its perks but the constant hunger wasn't one of them. Her metabolism made it hard for her to skip a meal without her stomach having serious qualms. 

True to Fury's words, there's food waiting for them in the control room but it's not exactly what you'd call a feast. Someone's gone out and brought fruit and snack bars and piled them up on a table in the middle of the room for anyone to take as they wish. It's not exactly a traditional breakfast but Bobbi doesn't even care at this point. It explains why Fury happened to have five snack bars to hand earlier.

She rushes forward and fills her pockets with snack bars for the quinjet ride before grabbing an apple and devouring it. The others quickly follow suit, eating as much as they can in the limited time. They won't be able to eat when they arrive on the scene so they have to make the most of what they can now.

"Someone needs to update the S.H.I.E.L.D grocery list." Hope grumbles after her second banana, throwing the skin into the bin from ten meter away. It goes in with ease earning an applause from the team.

"I'm not complaining right now." Clint mumbles. 

"Well that's a first." Natasha snorts. 

They all take their time eating, making the most of their twenty minutes. Soon Coulson will be dragging them all up to the quinjet but up until then they're going to make the most of all of the food set out for them. They'll just have to hope that none of them throw up during the mission, that could get messy.

Sure enough, the sound of Coulson's feet wakes them up from their lighthearted conversation. 

"You have just over five minutes to get to the quinjet." He taps his antique watch, giving them a fatherly glare. 

"Why does this place run on such tight schedules?" Clint sighs, "I feel like we're always running somewhere or other." 

"That does seem to be how it goes here." Hope sighs, shoving her last snack bar in her mouth. The others follow suit, trying to shove as much as they can in before Coulson literally drags them out onto the surface and into a quinjet.

The others all begins leaving, following Coulson up the stairs. Bobbi sticks another snack bar into her pocket before running after them. They might not be able to eat on the ground but they must have at least five minutes in the quinjet before they land which is more than enough time to eat her snack bars.

They all obediently trail after Coulson, not letting him out of their sight despite his surprising speed. All day yesterday people had been running back and forth along the runway but now there was no one. The staircase was completely empty. All the preparations have been made. Everyone is in position. Everyone except them.

Without all the people blocking the way they manage to get up the stairs much quicker. Soon enough they were back in the open air, exposed to the harsh, chilled winds of the high sky. It was always freezing on the upper deck, no matter where they were. That's probably why people haven't tried to make air crafts like this before, they're not much for leisure purposes.

There's quinjet open and ready for them. Pilots are rushing around near the plane doing the last few preparations before take off. The nerves are beginning to get to her. The usual giddy feeling she gets before missions has been amplified ten fold. This was properly dangerous. They had failed before against theses enemies and the only thing they have now they didn't before is a few days training and some last minute gadgets cooked up in a floating lab. She's loving their chances.

"Good luck, all of you." Coulson says. He quickly gives each of them a short hug, not wanting to waste any more of their time. Bobbi buries her face in his neck, letting the smell of cinnamon calm her.

They'll all come back alive and well.

Coulson will be waiting for them all with a tub of ice cream as their reward. 

It always works out in the end.

"See you when we get back, old man." She smiles, not wanting to look back at him. Ever since she came to the academy Coulson had been taking care of her. He'd been taking care of them all. He was family. A part of their weird, messy family. Hope and Scott were too now. 

The ramp closes behind them, sealing them away from everyone else. There is no turning back now. The mission has begun.

Bobbi is just about to take her seat when she notices someone else on board the quinjet with them. The boy from yesterday, Dr. Banner, is already strapped into the quinjet and waiting for them.

"Dr. Banner? What are you doing here?" Hope asks. She takes a seat next to Scott without acknowledging his presence. 

"You guys slept in. We didn't have time to teach you how to use the devices so one of us had to come down with you. I figured I was the most likely to survive the experience so I volunteered. I figured it was probably Fury's plan all along." Bruce sighs, clenching his fist which is resting on his leg. There's a huge bag resting at his feet, most likely holding all the stuff the scientists made for them.

She hadn't eve considered that. She'd forgotten that they'd need to know how to use all the gadgets. If they hadn't tried to sleep for so long he wouldn't have got dragged into this mission. He'd be safe on the helicarrier (not that he was really in much danger here). From what she'd seen it would take more than a few mutants to take down the Hulk. 

The others all begin to take their seats too. There's no point questioning his presence here because he's right - it almost certainly is a part of Fury's plan. They'd all seen what the Hulk could do and clearly Fury wanted that power on the team. 

"You doing okay? You look...peachy." Bobbi asks, sitting beside Bruce.

"Thanks. I didn't get any sleep." Bruce groans. Somehow despite not sleeping he still looks better than the rest of them. Maybe not better actually, but he doesn't look much different to yesterday.

"You stayed up all night in the labs?"

"We all did. There was a lot going on and we still didn't finish most of the stuff they had designed. I think we got the most important stuff though." Bruce says, lifting up the bag at his feet and rummaging through it.

Bobbi watches him go through his mental checklist to make sure everything is present and accounted for. It must be fine because he zips the bag up again without so much as a word. 

"Did you get breakfast?" Bobbi asks as she feels the snack bars in her pocket. 

"Didn't have time. I had to come straight here." 

"Here, catch." She grabs the snack bars and chucks them one at a time to Bruce. He catches them all one by one, not missing a beat. He might appear geeky and clumsy but she's reminded that his reflexes are just as good as all of theirs.

"Thanks. I don't remember how long it's been since I ate." He says, opening the bars and eating them slowly. His self control is impeccable. Compared to how they devoured their food, he's basically nibbling his. 

"Where are we actually going?" Bruce asks with his mouth half full with food.

"No idea. Director Fury doesn't like to tell us things." Clint grumbles, fiddling with his straps as the engines begin to start up.

"So we're just flying into a mission in some random corner of the world unprepared...sounds like fun." Bruce releases his fist and splays his fingers out across his knee. 

"Sounds about right." Hope hisses as she ties her hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way. 

Without any warning, Bobbi is thrown back in her chair, her head hitting the neck rest uncomfortably. The bruises on the back of her neck protest but the force of the quinjet taking off pushes her head back further into the head rest. She grits her teeth and grips her straps tightly, hanging on for dear life despite being safely strapped in.

Wherever they are they don't have to travel too far. The quinjet is just a ferry for them to land on the ground this time. Compared to their usual flights that take hours, this one should only take a few minutes. 

None of them bother talking. The silence is strangely nice. Bobbi has always quite liked silence but normally silent rooms are tense and uncomfortable, this doesn't feel like that though. Despite their situation it's comfortable and peaceful. Relaxing almost.

Bobbi leans back and closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing as they wait for the pilot to find a safe place to land. Her head bumps against the head rest a few times as the quinjet hits turbulence but for the most part, the technology that makes up the quinjet keeps the plane steady allowing her head to take a break from all the beatings. 

The flight seems to take longer than she'd expected, or maybe she'd just lost track of time because it must take at least ten minutes for them to land. Something must've gone wrong because there's no way it should take ten minutes to go from the Helicarrier to the ground in a Quinjet. 

The turbulence seems to get stronger the closer they get to the ground. With every passing second her head gets knocked about more and more. She teaches a hand behind her head and runs her aching neck tenderly. She's going to need an ice pack for her neck by the end of the mission, especially if she engages in combat on the ground. 

Eventually they manage to land and everyone is allowed to unclip their seat belts. Bruce jumps up first, desperate to free himself from the straps. He grabs the bag from the floor with relative ease and swings it over his shoulder casually.

Once everyone is up and on their feet they stand patiently in front of the ramp. As soon as the ramp is down their mission will have properly begun and they'll be off. 

"Where do you think we are?" Scott asks, tapping his toe quietly on the floor. 

"The carribean." Clint mutters. Bobbi looks over to him and frowns.

"Why would the mutant brotherhood attack the Carribean?" 

"Why wouldn't they. If I was an evil master mind the first place I would invade is the Caribbean, or maybe Tahiti."

"I bet its Russia again. Fury would never send us somewhere warm." Hope says. 

Slowly but surely the ramp opens up but the scene beyond isn't the sort Bobbi was picturing. 

"Told you so." Hope smiles, stepping off the plane first. 

"Snow? Really? Why do bad guys always go to places with snow?" Clint grumbles but follows closely behind Hope. 

Snow is one way to describe the scene beyond. There certainly is a lot of snow, but the storm is the main bit Bobbi would focus on. The entire view beyond the ramp is blocked off by a thick snow storm that is smothering the landscape. Even now, after a few seconds, Hope and Clint have banished from view. Consumed by the storm. 

That explains the landing trouble. 

"Guys! I don't think we should be going off on our own!" Scott shouts off into the abyss but no one responds. 

"We better go after them then." Bobbi says.

"What do we do about the cold?" Scott asks. 

"Our suits should go on keeping us warm for the time being." The suits had been specially made so they adapted to the environment to protect the wearer. It was a function she'd never needed until now. 

"What about Banner?" Unlike the others, Bruce had turned down the black stealth suits and didn't have his own suit to protect him from the elements. The way he is now would leave him dead within the hour. 

"We should have something here..." Bobbi runs back over to the seats and begins searching underneath them. She'd been on loads of quinjet in her years at the academy and had come to learn many of the hidden secrets that S.H.I.E.L.D kept about them, like this hidden stashes of clothes under each seat. 

"Here we go." Bobbi pulls a thick fur coat, gloves, a ski mask and some thermal trousers out from under the seat and hands them to Bruce who takes the pile cautiously. "These should do. They're not great for fighting but hopefully you'll be able to stay out of the fights."

"Thanks."

"We'll go out and try to find the others before they walk off a cliff or something. You get changed and we'll be back when we find them. If we don't come back then don't come out looking for us." Bobbi explains. They can't afford to all be wandering around pointlessly in the snow.

"Okay. Bring them back alive." 

They all step out into the snow, looking back at Bruce behind them. As soon as they're out he closes the ramp, keeping as much warmth as possible inside the quinjet. 

"Off we go then." Scott mutters as they step out into the thick of the storm. 

~~~

_26/01/2016, 09:48_

The mission had begun a whole five minutes ago and they'd already been separated. Why did these missions never go to plan? Couldn't they ever catch a break.

Fury had made sure not to tell any of them where they were going but it certainly wasn't the Caribbean. Snow was completely surrounding him. The snowfall was so thick he could barely see the trees in front of him, let alone the other team members.

"Nat?!" He shouts out into the snow, "Bobbi?! Guys?!" Silence drowns him.

Slowly the snow seems to be thinning. Trees begin becoming visible through the thick white curtain. He pulls his bow off of his back and loads it. The arrow clicks into place satisfyingly. He raises it to his eye level and looks down the shaft, taking aim. There doesn't seem to be anything to aim at but the hair on the back of his arm is stood up. The goosebumps rippled down his arm, bringing a shiver with them.

_Someone else is here._

There's a sudden crack of a branch behind him and he whips around to fire a shot but he's too slow. Before he knows what's happened he's been knocked on his back and pain is rippling down his leg. He sits up and presses a hand against his leg to feel a warm liquid pooling on his skin. He brings his hand away and watches the snow flakes melt as they hit the blood that is now coating his hand. All at once it's like his leg has been set on fire, the pain suddenly intensifying

Someone else is here alright. Someone has shot him! How didn't he hear the bullet?!

He struggles to get back onto his feet, trying to prepare himself for the next attack. He lifts his bow up and searches the landscape for any hint of his attacker. Whoever did this is going to be back. 

Once again there is a crack of branches and a sudden breeze and he's knocked back onto his back again, pinned down. Standing above him is a young boy, only a year or two younger than him. His white hair blends in with the snow, much like his grey-blue suit. The boy smirks childishly, his eyes sparkling. 

"You didn't see that coming?"


	14. Fathers Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets Wanda Maximoff and the team deal with the mutant brotherhoods attack on the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *disclaimer* There's mentions and descriptions of abuse in this chapter (because apparently every superhero has abusive parents)

_26/01/2016, 09:58_

"God damn it!" Natasha hisses, lowering her goggles and trying to wipe them clean, "Where he hell have they wandered off to this time? They do know this is an incredibly important missions and not a field trip." She grumbles. Her hand returns to her side, lowering the goggles in defeat.

"I don't think those goggles are going to do anything. You can't see your hand in front of your face, let alone deep into this forest." Scott explains, coming to a stop beside Natasha. Falling behind them even slightly could be disastrous. It's not an exaggeration to say you cant see your own hand so falling behind in anyway would put him in the same situation as Hope and Clint.

"This is a nightmare." Bobbi mutters. The wind blows away her words until they're nothing more than a gentle whisper. 

They'd managed to get themselves lost in the snow just like the others. For all their bravado and training, they really don't think things through. Where there should be the quinjet, there is nothing but snow upon snow. Trees keep popping out where they didn't think there should be trees, further proof that the girls have no idea where they are at the moment.

"You dont happen to have some kind of magical device in your suit that can see through all this?" Bobbi asks, shuffling closer to Scott and Natasha.

"Unfortunately not. Hope got all the cool stuff, I was left with the first model. The basic functions. I dont even get proper weapons." He grumbles, fiddling with the small discs he'd been given as weapons. He passes them from hand to hand, not daring to walk any further unarmed.

Bobbi had worked them all to the bone since the last mission but it was clear Scott was behind when it came to weapons. Next to Clint's bow, Natasha's guns and whatever Bobbi's sticks were, Scott was holding kids toys. Sure he could shrink people but when you're fighting people that can shoot red smoke stuff out of their hands you kinda want something a bit more...deadly. 

"Great. We're screwed. Its been ten minutes and we've already failed." Bobbi scowls at the snow. Unsurprisingly the snow is hard to intimidate and refuses to budge or allow any more visibility. 

"It could be worse. We could be all bleeding out on the floor." Scott offers. Natasha raises an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed sinisterly. 

All of a sudden a roar rings out across the forest despite the howling wind. In Scott's mind that's enough of a sign to stay away but he's not completely new at S.H.I.E.L.D anymore. He already knows what Natasha is going to say next and he already knows he's going to agree.

"I guess we know where we're going now then." Natasha says, pulling out her gun and leading them all towards the source of the thundering roar.

"Where else would we go?" Scott mumbles before following her into the thick of the storm.

~~~

_26/01/2016, 09:50_

Bruce already hated this. He'd been at SHIELD for under thirty hours and he was already regretting the choice. Was it always going to be like this? There's no doubt that Fury had orchestrated all of this to make sure that Bruce was on this quinjet with the others. There was no point on dwelling on all of that now though. He'd take all that rage and shove it down with all the other rage. Fury could shove him on this mission but he couldn't make the Hulk participate. Bruce wouldn't give him that. 

S.H.I.E.L.D was certainly prepared for their missions. Bruce had managed to put on all the layers that Bobbi had retrieved from the quinjet and now was beginning to burn up. These clothes certainly hadn't been designed to be worn inside by a person with an incredibly fast metabolism. Small beads of sweat are already beginning to form on his brow. He casually wipes them away with the back of his hand as he sits on the chairs.

He rests his head between his legs. They're taking too long. They can't have been too far behind Clint and Hope, it shouldn't have taken this long to catch up. Whatever is going on, it must be bad. Bruce clutches the bag with all the inventions tighter, pulling it towards him. Pain radiates down his leg as the hard bag knocks into his leg. 

A loud beep sounds out through the quinjet, the empty sound echoing through the metal coffin. Bruce sits up straight and looks around for the source. A small red light is flashing above the ramp the others left through. After a few seconds he notices the ramp is slowly lowering to allow the elements access to the inside of the quinjet. He pulls the jacket tighter around him and stands up slowly. one fist is still tightly clutching the bag of inventions. If he can at least protect this one thing then he'll have done his job. 

As the ramp slowly touches down on the ground, a girl steps on board. She's not dressed for the winter, instead opting for black trousers and shirt with a flimsy red coat that does next to nothing to keep in the warmth. She hasn't even bothered to do up the coat, letting it hang open to show the Gothic black outfit underneath. She doesn't shiver but her skin has an unnaturally pale pallor to match her blueish lips.

She steps closer, almost fearless. She holds herself high, chin up. Her hands weave around thin red smoke that drifts around with a mind of its own. The smoke matches her coat - closer to crimson than normal red. The colour out looks like blood split across the white, snowy backdrop.

"Dr. Banner?" She's clearly not American. If Bruce had to guess he would say she was from Romania or somewhere similar. 

"Who's asking?" Bruce asks, straightening up and readjusting his grip on the bag. Her eyes drift towards the bag in passing but quickly refocus their efforts on Bruce again.

"Wanda." She takes another step towards him, almost close enough to touch him. 

"Wanda?" Bruce takes a few steps back to put some distance between him and her. Once there is a reasonable distance he sets bag down on the floor and finally releases it. She doesn't pay attention to the bag anymore. Instead she lets the smoke move further up her arm, growing denser with every passing second.

"We weren't sure if you would be here." She looks up from her smoke to smirk at Bruce. Bruce has seen his fair share of threatening smirks but hers doesn't even crack the top twenty. She is just a child. She's probably not much younger than Bruce but she seems so much younger. Just a child. Naive and hopeful despite everything.

"Well I'm here. What do you mutants want with me."

"We dont want anything from you but we can't have you interfering." The girl drops her hands to her side and gives Bruce her full attention. 

"I'd like to see you stop me." Bruce smirks, "Bigger and badder people than you have tried and none of them have walked away. What makes you any different?" 

"None of them were me." She raises her hand and fires the red smoke she'd been building up directly at Bruce. He quickly drops the the ground and rolls out of the way. The smoke smacks the bag across the room and makes an indent in the reinforced quinjet walls. Her smoke follows behind him, not giving him any time to think. He manages to dodge again, dashing out of the way and barrelling towards Wanda. He intends to knock her down and hopefully incapacitate her before the Hulk is released but his body stops moving a meter away from Wanda. He tries to make himself move but it's like his mind and body have disconnected. It's bad enough losing control of his body when he Hulk out, now he actually has to see while he's unable to control himself. 

Red smoke tinges the edge of his vision, sparking and drowning out his vision. The smoke slowly becomes more and more solid until it is a liquid and slowly drips over his eye. His vision is completely blocked out by a film of crimson until he can't even see Wanda standing in front of him.

He fights against whatever is restraining him to find himself completely unbound again. he's once again able to move his body. He brings his hand up to his face and wipes the liquid out of his eyes. His hands come away sticky and covered in thick almost black blood. There's a gash across his forehead that is still bleeding heavily.

"Stop crying you little monster." Bruce's blood turns cold. That voice. He'd escaped that voice. It had been a lifetime since he last heard those words.

"Dad?" He hisses, finally opening his eyes.

Brian Banner is stood in front of him, looming over his car seat. Bruce is still strapped into the car, the drivers seat now empty. Blood is covering Brian's hands. His mothers blood. The sound of the blood dripping is rhythmic, drilling into Bruce's head. 

"What are you doing sat there?!" Brian screams. He balls his hand up into a fist and slams his fist into Bruce's face. Bruce barely even dares whimper. Any sign of weakness is a sure fire way to get hurt.

He begins fumbling with his seat belt until he finds the clip and frees himself. As soon as the clip has been undone, Brian reaches into the car and drags Bruce out into the open. He hits his head on the car door frame as he's dragged out but he doesn't make a sound. Silence. As he's pulled out his feet bash the body lying on the ground. His mom's body.

He remembers this night. This was the night his dad murdered his mom. She'd been trying to get them away but he'd found them and killed her in front of him.

Her blood drips off of Brian's fingers only to land on her face. The bright red contrasts the pale, dull skin like red paint on a white canvas. She looks so pure and young lying in her own blood. Too young. Brian had taken her youth and ruined her until she arrived here, dead on the floor. He'd never forgive him for that. Never.

"Look, you're a monster just like me boy." Brian grabs Bruce's head and makes him look at his own reflection in his mothers blood. The reflection isn't quite right though. He's not looking at his own face or even the face of himself when he was younger. Instead hes looking at his dads face. Or is it the Hulk? He can't tell anymore. The faces keep merging and melting into one another.

"Do you see now? Do you see why I had to hurt you and your mother?! You're a monster and you had to be dealt with. You did this to your mother." Brian growls, his fingers gripping onto the back of his head tighter. Bruce tries to wriggle his head out of his dads grip but there's not even a little bit of leeway. This version of his dad is considerably stronger than the dad he remembers. 

"Look at your hands boy! They're as red as mine!" Brian lets go of Bruce and throws him on top of his mom's body. Blood splatters up his torso, coating his hand until there's no skin visible. Just blood.

"I'm nothing like you." Bruce mutters, pushing off of his mom onto his knees, "You killed her! I never did anything to hurt her!" Bruce yells with all rage he's been shoving down for years. All that bottled rage breaks the flood gates and it feels good. He turns around slowly and stands up to face his dad.

"You are - " Bruce's fist collides with Brian's face before he can finish his sentence. He falls backwards onto the floor, blood trickling out of his nose. A devilish grin spreads across Brian's face as he regards his son. The sight of it sends Bruce into a fresh rage. He's unable to stop himself from launching a full attack on his dad. THis time there's no Hulking out. It's just Bruce attacking - no monster or mask to hide behind. He is truly exposed. 

Slowly the rage fades away leaving an emptiness in it's wake. Bruce relaxes his fists and looks down at his bleeding dad. Brian face has been completely wrecked until there's nothing but his haunting grin left. 

"I told you, Bruce. You're the same as me. You're a monster like me." Brain chuckles before flopping down on the floor, lifeless.

His dads body suddenly begins changing, becoming smaller and more petite. It's no longer his dad's bloody face but instead his mom's. His own body has changed. He's wearing his dads clothes now. He doesn't recognise any of his body as his own. His body...? No, it's his dads body. He has become his dad. Whatever was left of Bruce has faded into nothing.

He would cry but the empty nothing has no tears to shed. There isn't even sadness anymore. He can't bare to look at his own body, instead choosing to screw his eyes up and enjoy the darkness instead of the sight of his mom.

"...the suns getting real low." Bruce's heart suddenly slows. The feeling slowly begins to leech back into him. Warming him up. 

He remembers his mom say that when he was younger. A bedtime ritual. Something to keep the monsters away. To protect him.

Clearly it didn't work.

A hand reaches out and touches his wrist gently. It's soft and tender, hardly even touching the skin. Every place the hand touches warms up, radiating hear and feeling through him. The dark crimson veil across his eyes begins to fade slowly.

"Hey there Bruce...the suns getting real low..." The words are repeated again, louder this time. 

He opens his eyes finally and steps out into the light, leaving the crimson behind him.

~~~  
_26/01/2016, 10:00_

The roar from before wasn't hard to follow - it was easy actually. Whatever was making the noise wasn't going for stealth. Trees are coming down like bowling pins left and right. Whatever it is, it is heading deeper and deeper into the storm.

Despite how easy it was to follow, they were unable to actually reach the source. Every second they spent following it, it got ten steps further away. It was too fast to follow. They'd have to wait for it to slow down before they could catch up.

"What the hell is this thing?!" Bobbi asks, looking at the damage left in its wake. Trees have been completely obliterated. There are huge footprints set deep into the snow trailing through the forest. The foot prints are five times too big to be a humans. Bobbi decides it must be some kind of giant.

"I think I have an idea." Scott says, holding up a ripped S.H.I.E.L.D issue winter jacket. It's been completely torn apart but it's just about still recognisable.

"Banner?" Natasha mumbles quietly under her breath.

"Shit, did they get to him?" Bobbi takes the material from Scott hand to inspect. It doesn't seem to have been damaged by weapons. There's no trace of blood or anything. It seems it ripped when Banner...transformed.

"We need to stop him, fast. This could be get really bad really quick. If there's anyone nearby the Hulk will kill them. He's not the same as Banner. He wont care who dies." Natasha says. She doesn't wait for any response and instead takes off after the rogue Hulk into the forest. 

Bobbi had seen what the Hulk could do. If they were sent here on a mission then there must be people nearby - innocent and brotherhood members. They cant deal with two enemies right now, they _have_ to get Banner under control and fast.

Could this get any worse?

"Guys? I think I found Clint." Scott calls out from the behind them. Bobbi stops still in her tracks.

Clint.

Not even bothering to wait for Natasha, she turns on her heels and runs towards Scott and Clint. Where the hell has that idiot been! She runs into the dense tree area to see Scott crouched over a body. 

"Clint?" Bobbi's heart stops for a second at the sight of Clint's bloody body on the floor. She runs over to Scott's side and crouches on the floor. Her breath catches in her throat. She cant afford to lose anyone. Not a single one of her friends. Not _Clint_. 

"Don't worry, he's alive." Scott says upon seeing her. His fingers are pressed against Clint's wrist tentatively, "His leg is the only thing bleeding. It looks like someone hit him pretty hard on the head." Scott points to the sore looking bump on Clint's head. 

He's alive. Alive. It was just a leg wound. They can fix a leg wound in no time. He'll be back on his feet like usual before too long. She hasn't lost him.

"Thank god." Bobbi hisses, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of his face. 

"You're welcome." Clint groans, "You don't need to call me god though." His eyes are still closed but there's a smile on his lips.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobbi retracts her hand and straightens herself up. It wouldn't do his ego any good to see her getting all emotional over him. He's annoying enough as it is.

"That speedy arse came by. Turns out he's into guns now." Clint groans, opening his eyes and tilting his head back.

"Are you okay, dude?" Scott asks, unable to tear his eyes away from the wound on his leg.

"I'm doing just peachy." Clint scowls and sits up slowly.

"Bobbi! Scott!" Natasha tears through the forest, "What are you doing! We need to catch up to Banner before he kills someone." She hisses through the snow. It's thinned out considerably but it's still frustratingly restricting. At least now they can see the environment around them.

Natasha slows down slightly as she sees Clint's leg and head wound. She crouches down next to them and gives Clint a once over. For a second Bobbi thinks she's going to hug him but instead she punches his arm with more force than necessary.

"What the hell was that for?" Clint whines, shuffling away from Natasha.

"You and Hope just wandered off like idiots then you go and get yourself shot in the leg! This all could've been avoided if you two weren't such idiots! I wouldn't have to be chasing down Banner right now either." She growls, no remorse in her face.

"We need to get him back to the quinjet and patch him up." Scott says, helping Clint up onto his feet. Clint rests his weight on Scott's shoulder gently. 

"We need to find Banner." Natasha demands stubbornly. Bobbi knows there's no way to change Natasha's mind on this. She's right as well. They need to stop him as soon as possible.

"Well we can't leave him." Scott says.

"It's fine, I can still shoot my bow. My leg should be fine soon - I'll survive until Banner is dealt with."

"You'll just slow us down Clint. Scott is right, we can't leave you and we can't take you." She ponders for a second before continuing, "Bobbi will take you back and sew your leg up, give you some drugs, then you can try and meet us all in the city we were supposed to be headed to. We need to try and find Hope as well."

"You'll need me in a fight against Banner." Bobbi protests. As much as she cares about Clint, she's physically the strongest in the group which is necessary in a fight against the Hulk. 

"You wont be able to beat him in fight either. He's too powerful for any of us. We'll lose either way if that's what it comes down to. You're the only one with proper medical training though so you should be the one to patch up Clint. We'll need all of us to protect the citizen of the city so we need Hawkeye with us." Natasha explains. It's probably the longest Bobbi has ever heard Natasha speak. She's normally the quiet type. 

"Fine." Bobbi sighs, "Don't either of you dare die." Bobbi points an accusatory finger at both of them, pairing the finger with a cautionary glare.

"Cross my heart, hope to die." Scott says sincerely, grinning mischievously. Bobbi scowls at him but takes Clint's weight from him without another word. Clint shifts his weight over without complaining, testing out how much pressure he can apply to the leg safely.

"See you on the other side."

~~~

Natasha's mind is reeling. Everything is happening at once. At least they know Clint is alive now. That's one idiot taken care of. Knowing him he'll be back on his feet within the hour. Injuries have never seemed to keep him down for long, despite how much he enjoys complaining about them.

"Where do you think Hope is then?" Scott asks, panting slightly. His face is tinted pink as the chilly air bites the exposed skin. 

"She must've gotten separated from Clint. She's probably fine. She can take care of herself."

"You don't need to tell me." He mumbles. His voice is softer than usual. It's missing it's usual excitable buzz in favour of a more sombre tone.

"What is she to you?" Natasha asks, trying to distract him from his own thoughts. He can't have his mind split right now - he needs all of his brain power and focus. Banner isn't going to be easy to take down.

"I have no idea these days. We used to be...friends. But she hates me now and she won't tell me why." He's quieter than usual. He's fiddling with something absentmindedly but Natasha can't get a good look at what it is exactly.

"Friends?" Natasha smirks, "I would've guessed it was more than friends."

"I don't know what we were." Scott sighs.

"Maybe you should talk to her." 

"Maybe -" A loud crash suddenly interrupts his train of thought.

Natasha grabs her gun and raises it to eye level. Her heart rate evens out, calming her down. She gets into the zone, silencing the rest of the world. Everything except her the gun and her target become blurry blips at the edge of her mind. 

The crash is closer than ever. Banner has stopped. This is there chance. What made him stop?

"Banner! You need to snap out of this!" Hope's voice is barely audible over the sound of the wind.

" _Puny Banner not here!_ " Banner - the Hulk, yells. A tree flies through the storm towards Natasha and Scott. They both duck suddenly, making sure the tree is well clear of them.

Snow melts on her exposed neck sending a shiver down her spine. She tries to shake the cold water off but it just moves further down her spine onto her back underneath her suit.

"I forgot how much I hate diving in the snow." Natasha grumbles, brushing the powdery snow off of her suit.

"We've found Banner and Hope. I'm doing well at this finding thing today." The cheer has seeped back into Scott's voice. Natasha smiles softly at the sound of it. It's strange to have Scott without his happy go lucky charm. 

"We should go and back her up before a rogue tree hits her." Natasha takes off in the direction the tree came from with Scott hot on her heels.

They both pull into what is now a clearing. Hope is armed to the teeth, fighting and losing a battle with the enraged green monster. Despite Hopes best efforts she's clearly no match for him. Blood is trickling out of the corner of her mouth and her suit is busted up from the fight.

"Took you guys long enough! Where have you been?"

"We took the scenic route. We had to take a wounded Hawk to the vets which caused a bit of a delay." Natasha runs over to Hopes side. 

The Hulk charges at them, making them split up again to avoid his attack. He slams his fists down on the spot where they had been standing a few moments before. The ground vibrates violently throwing them off balance but they're safe.

She lifts up her gun but doesn't dare let loose any bullets. Banner is a good guy. A nice guy. Sure the Hulk might protect him from bullet wounds but she'd rather not get on his bad side for trying to shoot him.

"For gods sake." Natasha mutters as she chucks the gun to one side. There's no point in using something like a gun against him. 

The Hulk roars again at nothing in particular. In all the footage before he always had a target of his rage but there seems to be no vessel for his anger. It's as if he's angry at something internal rather than an external threat.

"What are we going to do about Jolly Green?" Scott asks, coming to a halt at Natasha's side. Hope manages to slip around the Hulk to regroup with them, checking her gun. The cartridges are all empty. Natasha can't remember what they actually shoot but clearly it's just as ineffective as bullets.

"I've barely been able to defend against him. We need to figure something out quick." Natasha can barely hear her over the incessant roar of the Hulk. It almost sounds like he's crying - if crying could sound angry.

"It's only going to get harder. The suns getting real low now." As soon as those words leave her mouth the Hulk becomes quiet. He turns his head and looks over to Natasha slowly.

"What happened?" Scott asks, leaning closer to Natasha.

Natasha begins moving closer to the frozen Hulk. He's stretching his arm out ever so slight as if he's reaching out for something or someone. There's a light in his eyes that's a little piece of Banner deep within the Hulk. 

"Hey there Bruce...the suns getting real low." He sits down slightly, letting Natasha reach forward and take his arm. The second her hand touches his arm he begins to change. His arm slowly gets smaller and smaller until it's the same weedy arm that belongs to Banner. His skin slowly pales until there's no green left. His clothes, unfortunately don't regenerate leaving him basically naked in the snow.

"Banner, you okay?" Natasha asks. He's dazed and shaking violently but he manages a slight nod. He grips her forearm tightly, clinging to it like life line. 

"You don't happen to have a change of clothes?" He asks through chattering teeth. His words can barely be made out.

"I didn't think I'd need to be dressing naked men in the forest I'm afraid." Bruce chuckles slightly but his shivering drowns out the sound.

"The snows clearing now, you can see the city ahead." Hope walks over to them, pointing at the skyline just beyond the forest. Sure enough the buildings are nearby now. If they can just get there they can find some clothes to make Banner decent. 

"How do you feel about stealing clothes?"

"Right now, I honestly don't care where you get the clothes from." He mumbles. 

"The city it is then."

~~~

_26/01/2016, 10:11_

Wanda could hear the roars of the Hulk in the distance. Her part here was done. She should probably begin heading back to the city to join the others before they all leave without her but she Pietro isn't here yet. He'd said he would meet her in the quinjet as soon as he neutralised the other team members. 

"Where are you?" She mumbles, pacing from side to side.

"Who are you talking to?" A voice asks from the ramp. Wanda raises her fists in preparation for battle. Someone must've slipped past Pietro. The snow must be making it hard for him to locate all of them.

Sure enough, someone is ambling up the ramp. A girl. She's of the ones Wanda took out back in Russia. Not too threatening really - nothing special. Her strength could be an issue but luckily Wanda works best from a long range. No need to go into close combat when you have abilities like Wanda's.

"Where's my brother?" Wanda asks, keeping her distance from the girl. The more space the better. She raises her hands, ready to fire at a moments notice.

"Is he the fast one?" The girl asks, twirling a baton in her hand. Wanda is almost jealous of her ease and grace. 

"What did you do to him?!" She hisses, taking a step closer to the girl. If anything happened to Pietro.... She didn't even want to be here. The mutants had protected her and Pietro for years but this wasn't the life she wanted. All she wanted was him. 

"He's fine, for now." The girl smirks. She's stopped twirling her batons now, holding them in a fighting stance. 

"If you've done anything to him..." Wanda hisses. She calls upon her power making it swell around her hands. She could do it now, she could search the girls memories, find what happened to Pietro. Just one hit. That's all she would need. 

Suddenly the girls eyes flick towards the wall behind her. The girl nods ever so slightly. Signalling. There's someone else!

Wanda twists around, searching for her other attacker. It seems like there is no one there for a few seconds but before she knows it, a sticky, jelly substance has wrapped itself around her hands. She tries to fire her powers but the jelly substance is blocking her powers somehow. She tries to pull her hands apart but every time she stretches the material it turns hard and stiff. Handcuff specially made for people like her. It seems S.H.I.E.L.D knew what they were walking into this time.

"What have you done!" She screeches, tearing pathetically at the new restraints. 

"Jelly arrows. I knew they would come in handy at some point." The boy that had been concealed by a grate that lead into the cockpit says.

"You just guess that would work, didn't you." The girl says. She walks over to Wanda and grabs her by the arms to drag her. Wanda tries to wriggle out of her grip but the girls grip is too strong to pull out. Instead she's forced to follow along as the girl drags her to one of the chairs and straps her down.

"Yep." The boy says, popping the _p_. He wriggles through the grate and lands on their side of the quinjet. He winces as his legs touch the ground, blood spilling out of a wound on his leg. 

"He shot you didn't he." Wanda chuckles, glad to see her brother got a good hit in. 

"He’s a lousy shot. He should’ve gone for something that would be a bit more he should've gone for the kill shot.” Pietro could’ve gone for the kill if he wanted but what did that make them. If they went around killing everyone who would kill them then they would be just as bad. 

"We don’t kill people. That’s your peoples speciality.” She spits at them.

"Sure it is. I've seen what you people do." The boy scowls, wincing at the pain in his legs.

"I'll sort your leg out now. Sit down and stay still." The girl says, pointing at one of the seats near to Wanda's. He scowls at Wanda slightly before taking his seat and rolling up his trouser leg.

The girl retrieves her first aid kit and sits down in front of him, prepping her supplies. The boy winces as she makes the first stitch but tries to stay quiet.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks. She knows they're lying but a part of her still needs to hear what they have to say.

"Last time we saw you, your people murdered hundreds of innocent people for no good reason. You can't go on acting all high and mighty after that." The boy hisses. He shifts slightly as he speaks causing the girl to lash out and punch his arm. He grumbles but doesn't actually complain. 

"You're wrong. That was your people. My people are just fighting to live. You're the ones who wont let us live like all the other humans."

"Tell that to the hundreds of dead bodies in that city. Tell that to the hundreds of bodies that are going to be added to the count today when you people attack that city and kill everyone."

"You're lying." She holds her head high and scowls. She shouldn't be listening to them in the first place.

"Why don't you come with us then - see what they're doing for yourself." The girl says as she finishes the last stitches. 

"You're fools to bring your prisoner back to your enemies." Wanda chuckles, leaning back in her seat slightly. She's not going to listen to these agents. This is her family and she owes them.

"We'll see what you have to say when you see the city for yourself." The boy says, stretching his leg out slightly. He still winces with the movement but at least blood isn't pouring out of him anymore.

"Grab the bag of gadgets." The girl points to the bag she'd launched at the wall earlier, "I'll take the witch." The girl unclips me and grabs my arms again. She's not even trying to be gentle. Her grip is almost certainly going to leave bruises. 

While she's dealing with me the boy hobbles over to the bag and bends as low as he can to grab it. He slings it over his back as he readjusts his grip and stance to minimise his pain. 

"Welcome to the enemy ranks, witch." The boy whispers in her ear as he passes her.

She'll find her brother and find a way to deal with these people, if it's the last thing she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is almost the end of the first part. In my head I've kind split the book into 4 parts (Pre-Avengers, forming the avengers, the avengers and post avengers) and this is the end of the first bit. Now I'm able to properly start adding the big characters (Tony, Steve, Thor, Loki etc.) which will be fun. This section probably went on too long but I wanted to try and explore some these characters more before they kinda get drowned out by the actual story line. 
> 
> What characters are you looking forward to seeing in the next section of the story? Do you guys think I went on with this section for too long? Hopefully not. 
> 
> Until next week then :)


	15. Didn't see that coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro and Wanda Maximoff team up with the Defenders

_ 26/01/2016, 10:23 _   
  
Being injured sucks. Even with the painkillers, every step was torture. The stitches were holding nicely, even if they weren't as good as Natasha's. At least now he wasn't slowly bleeding out from a pathetic leg wound.

"You doing okay?" Bobbi asks, dragging the witch behind her.

The witch had been surprisingly silent ever since they left the quinjet. Sometimes out of the corner of his eye he could see her strain against her binds but they never gave way. He still couldn't let his guard down, even if she did appear to be incapacitated. If she is any thing like her brother then she is too powerful to be underestimated.

"I'm doing fine. I'll be better when I get to kick the arse of the guy who stuck a bullet in me. See how he likes having a bullet his is stupid legs." Clint hisses under his breath, pushing his way through his hobble. He couldn't exactly get payback if he couldn't even walk to the city.

"I can't say you're looking fine." Clint could do whatever he wanted with his expression but even he couldn't hide his slowly greying skin.

"You always have the best compliments." he mutters through gritted teeth. 

"I do the best I can with the material I'm given." Bobbi sighs, the edges of her lips curving upward. 

“What are we going to do with the witch?” Clint sends a venomous scowl to the other girl. 

“We’ll show her what's really been going on out there and see if she’s still chummy with them.

“Then what? Invite her to join our super secret bestest friends murder squad?”

“This is why we don't let you pick the names,  _ Hawkeye _ .” Bobbi drawls. Clint sends her a harsh scowl, shedding his usual jokes. 

“I don't know what we do, that's up to Fury and them. Would it really be so bad to have two more enhanced individuals on the team? At this point half the team has some kind of criminal record or murder under their belt, what's two more?” Bobbi sighs, slowing down her march to look Clint in the eye. 

“Whatever, as long as there's no more shooting. I'm getting kinda sick of being the receiving end of teammates attacks.” Clint groans.

He uses his bow to push away some of the foliage gathered around their ankles, clearing the overgrown path they've somehow ended up on. Although the snow storm has mostly died down, the heavy layer of snow on the ground has blocked the actual path through the forest leading them onto the road less travelled. 

“I don't see why I have to carry the bag. I'm injured, shouldn't that grant some kind of immunity from arduous tasks? Shouldn't the one with actual super strength carry the bag of super volatile super heavy stuff?” Clint grumbles.

The bag is slowly cutting off his blood supply to his fingers as he tries to keep it from dragging in the snow. Clint has seen the kind of stuff SHIELD can cook up in their labs and would really rather not see what they do when buried under a foot of snow. Banner made carrying it look easy but it's anything but. Even the weedy guys can bench press lorries now. “You'll live. You're stronger than you let on.” 

Through the tree line, buildings begin swarming. A city rises up from the horizon that is blurry from thick snow piled on top of it. It's not a particularly well developed city but a city none the less. 

“It seems we have reached our destination.” Clint mutters to himself. 

“Somethings wrong.” Bobbi perks up, search ung for some unseen danger only she can sense. 

The witch begins squirming slightly, tugging on her bindings fruitlessly. She bites her lower lip as she looks around feverishly. 

“There! Do you see it?” Bobbi says, oblivious to the witches movements. 

A fire is crackling in the middle of the city, right where Bobbi is pointing. It's not big, hardly big enough to see amongst all the concrete, but it's growing fast. 

One of the skills Clint has always been proud of is his impeccable hearing. Bobbi has her strength and Natasha has her terrifying hand to hand combat but Clint has good senses. You don't get as good at archery as he is without being able to perfectly analyse your environment. Despite how far away the city is, he can just about pick up the screams of the inhabitants. 

“We're already too late.” Clint says, wide eyed. Just once could they turn up before the killing starts? Just  _ once _ . 

“We need to get there right now.” Bobbi tugs the witch towards her making her stumble forwards and knock into Bobbi. 

“What about the others? We can't take all of them on even with the six of us, let alone with only two!” Clint hisses.

“I have faith in Natasha. She’ll find all of them and get to the city. In fact she's probably already there.” 

“We better hope so, for all our sakes.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the witch suddenly fall still. Her eyes turn glassy as she looks out at the city lying beyond. Can she hear those horrendous screams as well? Does she feel any remorse for what her teammates are doing out there?

The wind begins to die down around them, the air becoming stagnant. It's like the world is holding its breath. Clint doesn’t dare breathe, wanting to preserve the stillness of the moment. 

Bobbi looks over at him, taking her eyes off of their prisoner. Something is off. If the wind has died down why does it sound like there is still a breeze rushing through the forest?

Too late, Clint dives onto the ground, pulling his bow out and notching an arrow. Bobbi is taken completely by surprise and knocked down onto her back by the silver blur that has just rushed past them. Without the foresight that Clint had, she is unable to break her fall. She’s completely winded, gasping for breathe in the cold air. 

The blur has finally stopped moving and Clint is able to get a good look at the bastard. He doesn’t look much like his sister in Clints opinion. His costume is silver to match his hair and his surprisingly pale skin. That’ll explain why he looks like a silver blur. 

He’s stopped with his back turned to Clint, trying to free his sister. He’s too cocky for his own good. He must have assumed he was the one to knock Clint over. It’s a growing trend Clint has noticed that people with powers are too reliant on them. Maybe that’s why Fury wanted Nat and him on the team, something to balance out the others.

Clint pushes up off of the ground and swipes at the boys legs, knocking him onto his back so he matches Bobbi. The witch is still bound luckily. Clint was able to stop the blur before things got completely out of hand. 

Clint places one foot on his chest, pinning him down before he can get back onto his feet. The boy begins squirming underfoot, wriggling to get free from Clints hold. All those training sessions were useful after all. He’d never admit it to Natasha but it seems she was right that your legs can be a powerful weapon in a fight. Just to be safe, he brings the bow around aim directly at the boy’s head. THat should keep him still while they talk this out. 

“What, you didn’t see that coming?” Clint smirks. “It’s hard to run when you’re flat on your back.”

As expected, the witch begins to charge at him, trying to knock him off of her brother. With his hands full he’s unable to react and defend himself. At the last minute she stops moving, knocked off course by a well timed punch from Bobbi. 

“You cut it pretty close there, Mockingbird.” 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Hawkeye.” She smirks, flicking her hair out of her face. She stands up straight, the barest hint of a blush on her face.

“What are we going to do with Quicksilver here?” He brings his bow closer to boy’s face, enjoying having the upper hand. No one shoots him in the leg and gets away with it.

“Quicksilver?” Bobbi questions, exasperated. Clint shrugs nonchalantly, “We’ll have to take them with us.”

“You really wanna put this guy on his feet?”

Against his better judgement, he takes his eyes away from the boy for a second to look at Bobbi. Without wasting a second, the boy kicks off of the ground with such speed that he manages to unbalance Clint. In that second of unbalanced he pushes off of the ground until he’s standing on two feet again. Where the boy lacks technique, he makes up for it with his incredible speed and agility. Before Clint can even blink, he’s knocked the bow out of Clints hands and onto the snowy ground by his sisters feet.

At the same time the witch manages to pull apart her weakened binds. He hands rip free of the last bits of jelly and her red smoke once again swirls around her hands. Unlike her brother, she doesn’t attack Clint or Bobbi. Instead she raises her hands defensively. Her eyes keep darting from her brother to the city beyond the forest. 

“Pietro.” She whispers through gritted teeth. Her voice gets her brothers full attention, drawing him away from Clint. Clint doesn’t waste any time grabbing the knife Nat had got him out of a concealed pocket in his suit. He keeps the blade hidden from the wonder twins, biding his time patiently. 

“Maybe we should go with them?” She bites her lower lip and lets the red smoke around her hands slowly fade away into nothing. 

“What are you saying? Did they do something to you? These are our people, why would we turn on them?” The boy, Pietro hisses venomously. 

“Something is wrong in the city, I can feel it. We should go with them and see what’s happening there for ourselves. They said that the others are killing people - innocent people. People like our family.” Wanda steps away from Bobbi, lowering her guard.

Pietro looks between Clint, Bobbi, his sister and the city cautiously. His brow is furrowed and his arms are still raised defensively but he doesn’t make any move to attack Clint. 

Clint doesn’t dare lower his fists or relax his stance. He’s not going to lower his guard just to be stabbed in the back (or shot in the leg). There’s no telling what they’re really planning. 

“It seems we’re going to be travelling together. Don’t think this means I trust you though.” Pietro hisses. He slowly back away from Clint to stand beside his sister. WHen he reaches her side she grabs his hand and presses them closer together.

“We’ll listen to what you have to say. If we find out you’ve been lying to us about what is happening we won’t hesitate to bring you to Magneto and the others.” She hisses. Now Clint is beginning to see the resemblance between the two. 

Pain is radiating through his leg from his short little spat with Pietro. He presses the flat side of the blade against the skin of his wrist, reminding himself of its presence. He won’t hesitate to use it if it comes down to that. No injury is going to distract him from his mission.

Clint looks to Bobbi for guidance. There’s not exactly protocol for this situation…unless there is and Clint just wasn’t listening.

Reluctantly Bobbi begins trudging through the snow towards the city, her back exposed to the mutant kids. Clint takes a deep breath in before following suit, gripping the knife tighter. 

“Well this is going to be fun.”

~~~

_ 26/01/2016, 10:45 _

“Don’t they have any smaller clothes?” Banner calls out from inside the bathroom of the house they just broke into. 

Looking at him now, weedy and nervous, Hope could hardly believe this was the same creature that had been rampaging through the forest. Natasha had explained Banners situation to them but she hadn’t seen any of the footage herself. It’s one thing to hear about the Hulk, but a completely different thing to actually experience it for yourself. 

“They didn’t have any kids. This is all they had that might fit.” Natasha call out, still pacing the room. Her finger runs across the spines of the books as she walks past them, scanning the shelves. 

Scott is sat down on the small armchair in the corner, tapping his leg incessantly on the ground. Compared to Natasha’s silent pacing, Scott is practically stomping. Not for the first time, Hope can’t help but admire his calmness. He almost looks relaxed as he slouches in the chair. It’s easy to disregard him but ashamedly, he’s coping better than her.

“It can’t be that bad.” Scott offers weakly. Hope had seen them as Natasha passed them through the crack in the bathroom door. They were definitely that bad. 

The bathroom door slowly opens to allow Banner to cautiously creep out and join them. He’s dressed up in trousers that are at least three sizes too big and tied up with a bulky leather belt. The worst part about the trousers isn’t their size though - it’s their colour. Someone decided that purple was a good colour for trousers and that person was definitely wrong. Banner stand in the doorway meekly, playing with the long sleeves of the coat Natasha had managed to locate. 

“At least you’ll be warm.” Hope says. It’s not exactly the time to be worrying about fashion choices. Everyone is too busy running for their lives to question the overly colourful ensemble. 

“We’ve spent too long here.” Natasha says, walking over to the window. “We should get moving. There’s no way we’ll be able to deal with all mutants without Bobbi and Clint. They have all the gadgets with them as well. The first thing we need to do is reconvene with them.” Hope nods along with her. Going off on her own earlier was a mistake she’s not going to repeat again. They need to actually start acting like a team if they want to succeed.

“How do we find them?” Scott asks, standing up from his little arm chair.

“They’ll be coming out of the forest right. We should head back to the forest and wait near the outskirts.” Banner says, adjusting his trousers. His hands keep gravitating to his waist to hoist them up, unable to keep them more than a few centimeters away at any given point.

“The tree line is pretty long though. They could come out anywhere.” Sott says. 

“We should be able to see them as soon as they leave the forest though, even if they don’t come out where we are waiting. So long as they also see us, we should be able to find each other.” Hope explains patiently. 

“Do we need anything else here?” Natasha asks.

Scott begins to pat himself down to check he hasn’t left anything. Hope doesn’t know what he could’ve left but he finds whatever he’s looking for and stops patting himself. 

“I think we’re all good.” Hope looks around quickly but they don’t have much to leave. All they’ve really brought are their weapons and none of them are planning on letting those go.

“Good. We should get going then.” Natasha demands.

She’s become the de facto leader, not that any of them are planning on arguing for that position. Normally Hope wouldn’t have imagined her the leader, despite her confidence. Hope has seen enough politics and business in her life to know Natasha isn’t and never will be a leader. She’s a follower. A soldier. A damn good soldier and a skilled worker but not a leader. From what little she’s heard about the girls past it makes sense. 

Nonetheless, Hope follows her, glad for some form of direction. She lets the girl lead the quartet back through the back alleys and dark streets of the city to the edge of the forest.

Luckily they hadn’t gone far into the city. They’d hardly gone in at all. Banner had been freezing after losing all of his clothes so they’d not wanted to spend time looking for a fancy place to crash. At least now it means they have a very short walk to go and reconvene with Bobbi and Clint. 

As they trudge through the city the screams of children and crackle of fire spreads out behind them. Their job is to defend these people. That’s why Fury created them. Turning their backs on those screams sends a shiver down Hope’s spine.

Scott stiffens beside her, keeping his back completely straight and his head high. Without blinking, he engages his helmet to conceal his face. Despite how pissed at him she’s trying to be, she reaches out and takes his hand cautiously. As soon as she touches his hand, he flinches like he’s gotten an electric shock. She blushes furiously and tries to let go of his hand, regretting her moment of weakness. Before she can fully pull away, he grabs onto her hand again, keeping her by his side. She considers forcefully pulling herself away from him but the lack on tension in both her and Scott makes her reconsider. They both need this right now. They can’t be alone.

She laces her fingers with his quietly, unable to bring herself to look at him. They walk side by side like that, not daring to speak a word they entire time. There’s nothing for them to say.

“Is that them?” Banner asks, pointing at four figures walking by the edge of the forest. It’s ironic that the one without his glasses is the first to spot the figures.

“There are four figures there, not two. It can’t be them.” Hope says, squinting at the slowly approaching figures. The gait of one of them does uncannily resemble Bobbi’s though - something she’d come to know quite well during their endless training sessions.

“No that is them. I’d recognise them anywhere. Who’s with them?” Natasha mumbles, speeding up suddenly.

Hope and Scott speed up too, still holding hands. They don’t bother going as fast as Natasha, letting her pull ahead. Banner sighs deeply before jogging slowly to keep closer to Hope and Scott. 

As they get closer, the shapes begin to take form and become visible. Sure enough, the two at the front are Clint and Bobbi. Clint is still dressed in his bloody, ripped suit as he limps along side Bobbi.

Behind them are two other kids. The boy is unfamiliar to Hope, a stranger, but the girl is all too familiar.

Hope lets go of Scott's hand and takes a step towards the girl, reaching for her gun. Scott grabs her wrist before she can pull out her gun and moves it away from the weapon. He lets go of her wrist as soon as it’s a safe distance away from her gun ,  keeping his distance from her.

“You!” Banner snarls, taking as step towards the girl. The boy sticks a hand in front of the girl protectively, putting himself between Banner and the girl.

“It’s okay Banner, they’re on our side...I think…” Bobbi says, looking apprehensively at the boy and girl behind her.

“ _ It’s okay?!  _ She tried to let the Hulk loose on that city! How do you know she’s not messing with your head?” Banner hisses through gritted teeth.

He takes another steps towards the girl. Bobbi steps up in front of him and presses a gentle, commanding hand against his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the girl who is now hidden behind the boy and Bobbi but she doesn't try to take another step closer. Bobbi might be a super soldier but Hope doesn’t doubt that Banner could push past her if he wanted. His show in the forest had been enough to prove that to her.

“We can’t be sure, but as much as I hate to admit it, they might be telling the truth. They didn’t know that their friends have been killing people. I don’t trust them, quicksilver there shot me in the leg and the scarlet witch is no better than him, but they might be on our side.” Clint sighs. Despite his words, Hope notices the flash of a knife hidden in his hand. 

Banner doesn’t seem swayed by the words at all, still pressed against Bobbi. His eyes have yet to leave the girl - the Scarlet Witch as Clint called her.

“I know your angry -” Scarlet witch starts. She’s surprisingly quiet and naive compared to what Hope had expected after their first encounter.

“Angry?! We’re way past that! I could choke the life out of you without changing a shade.” Banner interrupts. Venom drips from his words, ready to choke her as his words had threatened.

She keeps herself behind Quicksilver but straightens up. She meets Banners gaze and challenges him. Not as naive and innocent as she would have them believe. From what Hope remembers, she’s a deadly force. Not to be underestimated.

“Banner, you need to relax. We need all the help we can get right now. They could help us keep these people alive. If they’re lying then we’ll deal with that but for now we should give them the benefit of the doubt.” Natasha puts a hand on Banners arm and pulls him away from Bobbi. He backs away slightly but doesn’t shed any of his tension.

“The benefit of the doubt.” He finally takes his gaze away from Scarlet Witch and glares at Natasha instead, “I think she’s given us many reasons to doubt her.”

“I was raised by liars and murderers, I know when people are lying to me.” She removes her hand from Banner and puts some space between them.

He sends one last glare the Scarlet Witch's way before walking over to Clint to take the bag of gadgets from him and storming away.

“That’s about the warmest welcome you’re going to get.” Bobbi mumbles, moving to Hope and Scotts side and facing the newcomers.

“We’re glad to have you on our side…” Bobbi says, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

"Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.” The girl says, stepping out from behind brother.

“For future reference I’m not on your side, I’m here for Wanda and that’s all.” Pietro hisses before using his super speed to push past them all.

“What a lovely personality he has.” Scott grumbles under his breath.

They all begin following Pietro back towards the city, even Banner who has now taken possession of the bag of gadgets. No one bothers speaking, unsure of how to feel about the newcomers.

_ Things are certainly going to get more interesting....  _

~~~

_ 26/01/2016, 11:31 _

Wanda didn’t know how to feel. Everything she thought she knew is crumbling underfoot. The brotherhood had saved her and Pietro and kept them safe for years. It’s hard not to owe people like that something. They taught her how to use her abilities and gave her a purpose. She’d thought it was a good purpose but had that all been yet another lie? 

She’d always been told they were making the world a better place for mutants like her. For innocent families who deserved to live in peace just as much as the humans deserved to. She knew they did kill people but only influential anti mutant leaders - not innocent families. How had their group been reduced to this? Wanda would rather join the x-men than go around murdering innocent people.

“Do you think they’re telling the truth?” She asks Pietro. He’s finally slowed down to walk beside Wanda.

Their other companions haven’t yet decided if they want to put space between them or keep close to monitor them. The result is that they’ve almost formed a line behind Wanda and Pietro. Two of the girls, Natasha and Bobbi, have taken their place close behind Wanda and Pietro while Banner keeps right at the end of the line, following closely behind Scott and Hope who have all decided that keeping a distance is the best option. The other boy, Clint, hasn’t quite made up his mind yet. He keeps moving between the two groups, keeping his gaze fixed on Pietro.

“It seems that way.” Pietro says quietly. 

Bodies are are spread around the city. Most people are hiding in their houses, trying to keep hidden from the brotherhood but others haven’t been so lucky. A few of them are armed, seemingly fighting back. Maybe that’s why they were killed, because they refused to back down.

“What are we going to do?” They’ve spent so long with the Brotherhood now, where else do they have? Who will take in criminal mutants?

“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” Pietro says confidently. She’d always been jealous of that confidence.

“We can’t go back to Magneto and the others if we help these people.”

“I never cared about the Brotherhood. I’ll go where you go. I only came here to keep you safe and I’ll keep doing the same until we’re old and wrinkly.” He finally looks at Wanda, smiling softly.

“Let’s just get through this first…” Wanda mutters, ringing her hands. Pietro takes ahold of Wanda’s hands, separating them with gentle force.

A loud explosion interrupts whatever he was about to say to her. The explosion occurred overhead, showering rocks and huge lumps of concrete down on them. Before Pietro can grab them and move them out of the way, someone barrels into them knocking them into a nearby building. 

Wanda bashes her head as they roll into the room. The room begins to sway around her she tries regain her barings. She presses a hand against her head and feels warm, sticky blood coating the very back of her head.

“You couldn’t have been more carefully when you rushed in?” She groans, trying to sit up. She blinks a few times and the world suddenly starts to right itself.

“Sorry, I was kinda in a rush.” Someone beside her groans grumpily. Definitely not Pietro.

The boy Pietro shot, Clint, is lying beside her. He’s still lying down, not even trying to sit up. Blood is staining the bandage that had been wrapped around his leg wound. He must’ve torn the stitches when he knocked them all to safety.

Pietro is lying on the floor beside them, groaning and rubbing his head. He’s the closest to the door and is showered in dust and small pieces of debris that settled as they fell into the building. 

“Are you okay Pietro?” She shuffles closer to him and touches his shoulder gently. 

“Yeah, I’m good, I think....” He mumbles and tries to sit up.

By the time he’s sat up, Clint is stood up and looking around determinedly. His bow is already in his hand and is loaded. It’s much nicer when the bow isn’t actually aimed at her. 

“What happened?” Wanda asks, pushing up off of the ground to join Clint standing up.

“Your mutant friends attacked. I don’t know what they actually did but they’ve separated us all.” Clint says, not looking at Wanda and Pietro. He’s busy scanning the room for an escape route.

“We need to find the others, we’ll be safer in a bigger group.” Wanda says as she helps Pietro onto his feet.

“We should move up a floor to get a better look out of the window.” Pietro says, pointing at the staircase they’d landed in front of.

“Why don’t you go and scout for us?” Clint says as he begins sorting out his arrows, getting ready for a battle.

“I’m not going to leave you alone with my sister.” Pietro grits his teeth menacingly. 

“I’m sure your sister is more than capable of protecting herself - besides, aren’t we meant to be working together now? Why would I hurt someone I’m meant to be working with?” Clint asks, not stopping his preparations to talk. 

“I’ll be fine, you’ll be quicker than any of us. It’ll only take you a few seconds.” She gives him a reassuring smile. He’s always been overprotective. He’s only 12 minutes older than her but he acts like he’s twelve years older.

“Okay.” Pietro says reluctantly. He turns tail and runs at top speed up the stairs. He blurs into a silver smudge before disappearing completely.

“He’s very protective.” Wanda says. Clint stops sorting out his arrows for a few moments, lost in his own world.

“Aren’t all brothers….” He mumbles to himself. He must have a brother too. Where is that brother now? Clearly he’s not here protecting Clint, not anymore. Wanda considers pushing it more but thinks better of it. They hardly know each other. Wanda doesn’t care about this strange boy, she doesn’t need to intrude on his personal matters.

There’s a sudden whoosh as Pietro dashes down the stairs and comes to a stop beside her. He doesn’t smile or speak as he arrives, his face grim. 

“See, nothing happened.” Wanda says, gesturing to her unharmed body.

“What did you see?” Clint asks, putting down his bow and giving Pietro his full attention. 

“There’s a whole group of them in the middle of the road where the debris all fell. They’re searching for us all. There’s probably more searching the buildings but there were at least twenty in the middle of the road. Those are just the ones I could see.” Pietro explains. 

“So not good then.” Clint sighs, “Why can’t it ever be good news? I’m going to need a full two days sleep after this….” He groans, rubbing his head.

“Do you have a plan?” Wanda asks, taking a step towards him.

“Not really, no.” He sighs and picks up his bow again. 

“Great, we’re just going to go out and get slaughtered.” Pietro scowls, crossing his arms. 

“Look, you two can still leave. They don’t know they you were offering to work with us yet. If you wanted you can still leave and you might be left alone. YOu don’t have to come out and fight, it’s up to you.” Clint says, more serious than she’s seen him. This is the decision time.

“Where would we go? We’re criminals, we have nowhere but here.” Wanda says, ringing her hands again.

They are alone.

“You know, I’m a criminal too. Mainly stealing and other petty crimes, some of them weren’t even really me. Same with Scott - he’s a thief who was in jail for months. Natasha’s even worse, she was raised as an assassin for the Russian KGB. Heck even Bruce has killed people. We’re not exactly perfect people, but we’re good and S.H.I.E.L.D saw that in us. They gave us a home.” Clint sighs and looks at Wanda and Pietro thoughtfully. “You might have shot me in the leg and tried to unleash the Hulk on a city full of innocent people but I think you’re good people. If you wanted you could join us, come to S.H.I.E.L.D when this is over. If you step out there with me and fight you’ll have a home with us. You’ll be a defender. It’s up to you.” Clint stands up and looks at them both expectantly. 

Wanda looks over at Pietro quietly. A home. It had been a while since they’d had a proper home. They’d thought the Brotherhood could be their home. Their family. It hadn’t worked out that way though. They’d just caused more destruction. This could be it for real. They could actually do good. Save people.

Pietro nods at her. 

“Well then, welcome to the Defenders.” Clint smiles slightly. He hitches his sheath up on his shoulder, adjusting the grip, “Let’s go defend some people.”

Wanda straightens up and braces herself. It won’t be easy but they’ll get through this. They’ll win this battle. They have to.

“What’s the plan then?” Pietro asks, more invested than he was before.

“My leg will just slow you both down, I’m not really suited to close combat in this state. I’ll go up to the roof and deal with them from the sky with my arrows. I should be able to make it considerably easier but you’ll have to be the ones out there fighting in close quarters, especially Pietro.” Clint says. It’s hardly a plan but it’s what Wanda had been expecting. Clint isn’t really in any condition to actually fight, besides his bow and arrow are better from a distance.

“Okay. We’ll do what we can until the others manage to get to the fight.” Pietro says, looking to Wanda for confirmation.

“Wait for my signal then.” Clint says as he begins hobbling towards the stairs.

“What signal?” Wanda asks but Clint doesn’t stop walking. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” He says, knowingly. 

Soon he’s gone from sight, heading up the stairs. It’s not a particularly tall building so they don’t have long until Clint reaches the top of the building.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Pietro asks, bouncing from foot to foot impatiently.

“I think for once we actually are.” Wanda smiles.

Suddenly there are screams from outside followed by a loud bang as an explosion goes on outside. If anything is a signal it’ll be that. Wanda looks to Pietro, preparing each other to leave.

“See you on the other side.” Wanda says, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

“You too. Don’t die out there.” He says as he lets go of her hand and begins running outside. 

With his super speed he reaches the other mutants first and begins tackling them. A few have been knocked down by Clint’s blast. Pietro quickly runs by and knocks each of them out and drags them out of the fight and into nearby buildings, locking the door when possible. 

While he’s dragging all Clint’s victims away, Wanda begins getting to work on the others. She uses her abilities to lift up the debris and catapult it towards the other mutants. She doesn’t aim for anything vital, not wanting to kill them. They might have been murdering innocent people but they did take care of her and Pietro. Besides, if she goes around killing people now, what makes her any different to them?

Pietro is quickly back in the fray, trying to protect Wanda from attacks.  _ This _ is how they work best together. SHe can focus on attacking while he disarms all the attackers. They’ve fought against the x-men a few times so they’ve had experience fighting against other mutants before. 

Wanda is focusing on keeping her debris shield up to protect her from one of the mutants debris bullets (he can control the concrete to speed towards her in the form of bullets) that she doesn’t notice her attacker until his knife is pressed against her throat. An invisible opponent. Wanda doesn’t remember his name but the feeling of his knife against her throat makes her blood run cold. 

“It’s such a shame to waste such a pretty face. Why did you have to turn against us? I thought we were family and yet you’re siding with  _ them _ .” He spits the words out with a snarl. 

“You’ve been killing innocent people.”

“Are they really innocent though? They let innocent mutants get killed without blinking an eye, does that make them innocent?” He hisses, pressing his knife closer to her throat.

Pietro hasn’t noticed her yet, he’s too busy with his own attackers. Without her attacks to keep them busy, they’ve been able to surround Pietro, keeping him in an enclosed circle. If she doesn’t free him soon he’ll be completely trapped and at their mercy.

“Is that for you to judge? You can’t just kill people for things like that.” Wanda tries to wriggle free of his grip but every movement just pushes the knife deeper into her skin. She can feel a few drops of blood spilling down her neck from the small cut he’s inflicted. 

She begins panicking, trying to think of a way out of this situation. If he sees her using her abilities he’ll slit her throat. If she tries to punch or kick him he’ll slit her throat, purposely or accidentally.

Her train of thought is halted by a loud roar that ripples across the city. The man holding her stiffens, looking down the road for the source of the roar. One of the buildings is suddenly smashed as a body goes flying through the brick and smashes into the building on the other side of the road, smashing the window with a crash.

All the attackers still, waiting for the new threat to reveal itself. Even Pietro freezes as they wait.

The spell is broken when the Hulk comes charging out of the building towards the mutants. He charges straight for Pietro and Wanda, swiping all the attacking mutants as he charges by.

He must've been trapped in the building under all the rubble. Wanda notices the bag of gadgets Banner had been carrying smashed on the ground. All the contents re broken on the floor. There wasn't much point in bring them to the battle then. At least they're broken and not in the mutants hands. Wanda has spent long enough with them to know what they would do with that kind of technology. They'd sent Wanda and Pietro in to retrieve that mystery technology from Russia when they fist met the Defenders (or whatever they call themselves).

Other mutants begin to fall as Clint’s arrows find their marks. None of them are lethal, mostly just electrocuting them from what Wanda can see. One of the arrows finds its mark in the invisible guy that’s holding Wanda. He slowly begins to freeze over, unable to move. His lack of movement gives Wanda a chance to summon her magic forth and knock his knife away from her throat, freeing her. 

She doesn’t waste any time, quickly helping Pietro deal with his attackers. He runs past each of them, knocking them over which allows Wanda to pin them down with Debris to keep them from standing up again and rejoining the fight. A few of them have mutations that allow them to stand up again, but as soon as they break free they seem to vanish into thin air. 

“What the hell is going on?” Wanda mutters to herself, searching for the freed mutants. They can’t all be invisible can they? They had to go somewhere!

Suddenly Hope and Scott appear out of nowhere, getting bigger and bigger until they’re their usual size. Hope is holding a small bottle filled with the missing, now miniaturised mutants. She shakes the bottle gently letting them slide from side to side in their tiny little bottle.

“I think I prefer them small.” Hope says, tucking the bottle into a holder in her utility belt that Wanda hadn’t even noticed she had.

Despite all their efforts it was clear they were only just winning the fight. The Hulk was taking on the majority of the attackers but it still wasn’t quite enough. If Wanda and Pietro hadn’t decided to help them she’s not sure how they would’ve won this battle. There would’ve been too many attackers for the six of them.

Before she knows what is happening, Pietro is rushing past her, back into the building that her, Pietro and Clint were in before. What is her doing? She frowns, looking up at the building.

Clint is sat on top of the building, looking down his bow and arrow for his next target. Unbeknownst to him, there is a mutant approaching him from behind. He’s been too focused on keeping all of them safe he wasn’t focusing on himself. 

From the ground she can’t see what’s happening properly, everything is at the wrong angle but there’s a sudden bang as a gun is fired. There’s a loud thud as something - someone - falls to the ground.

**_PIETRO!_ **

She can’t explain the feeling but she knows it’s him. She knows he’s been hit. Call it a twin thing or whatever you want to but she knows.

Part of her acknowledges that Hope is trying to keep a hold of her but she pushes past her, sending her magic out in all directions to knock everyone out of the way. Hope loses her hold on Wanda, and Wanda is gone. She runs as fast as she can to to roof. It can’t be true. That feeling was wrong, she was wrong. She  _ had _ to be. 

She busts open the door to the roof and runs over to Pietro. He’s lying on the floor, a gunshot wound in his stomach. She slides along the rooftop and pulls his head onto her lap. Clint doesn’t move, his hands covered in blood and pressed up against Pietro’s stomach. Holding the wound together. Keeping him from bleeding out.

There's the body of his attacker sprawled on the other side of the rooftop, an arrow buried in his head. Not unconscious, actually dead. _Good_. He deserves it. Wanda only regrets that she wasn't able to do it herself. She knew him. She laughed with him. She thought they were friends and he went and shot her brother without a second thought.

“Hey, Pietro.” She chokes, tears welling up in her eyes. She can hardly see through her tears. 

“I bet you didn’t see that coming.” He mutters under his breath to Clint. He tries to smile but he starts coughing instead. Blood comes up as he coughs, trickling down his cheek.

“You said you’d keep me safe until we’re old, remember.” She says, brushing his hair out of his face. He tries to laugh but it’s interrupted by another bloody coughing fit.

“I might need to check out of that early.” He mutters, losing consciousness. He can’t lose consciousness. If he falls asleep there’s no telling whether he’ll wake up again.

“Hey, wake up!” She says, slapping him in the face. It seems to wake him up slightly. He sends her an indignant glare, scowling as fiercely as he can.

“Wanda!” Someone shouts behind her but she doesn’t dare take her eyes off of her brother. Part of her feels like if she looks away he’ll vanish forever.

“Wanda!” The person repeats again, coming to stand next to her, “The quinjet is moving closer, it’ll be here in a few minutes. There’s medical supplies on board and we have a proper surgery on board the Helicarrier. We just need to keep him awake and alive for a few more minutes.” Bobbi says, crouching beside Clint. Wanda tries to nod but she can’t tell whether she manages the motion.

“He’ll be fine, I promise.” Bobbi says, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“What about the battle down below?” Clint asks.

“It’s over. They all retreated. Something about Magneto being taken. There was a bigger threat I suppose. We’ve got most of them in custody and Scott, Hope, Bruce and Natasha are going to stay and makes sure all the citizens are safe while we get Pietro to the Helicarrier.” Bobbi explains. 

Wanda somewhat processes what is being said but she doesn’t have the strength to care about it now. Who cares if Magneto has been taken? Certainly not Wanda. SHe’s not a part of the Brotherhood anymore. Magneto might have done a lot for her but her family is Pietro. Her loyalty is to him and him alone. If Magneto is gone then there’s even less reason to stay. There’s nothing left for her here.

“S.H.I.E.L.D has the best technology and medicine out there. They’ll make sure they save him, don’t worry.” Wanda nods numbly. It seems that’s all she can do now. 

The numbness doesn’t fade. She knows she being taken onto the Quinjet and she knows Bobbi is strapping her in beside Pietro but she doesn’t feel any of it. Her hand is desperately clutching Pietro’s like a lifeline. 

Numb nothingness.

It’s like she’s watching someone else’s life. It isn’t her being lead out of the quinjet to meet the medical team. It’s not her walking down the dark corridors, still clutching his hand. It’s someone else’s life.

She doesn’t even feel anything as Clint pries her hand from Pietro’s. She lets herself be lead away to the waiting area. She clings onto Bobbi’s arms instead, curling up in her chair.

She’s never felt quite so small and alone.

She’s never been alone.

Whenever everyone else left, it was just her and Pietro. But now it’s just her.

And it hurts so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we've come to the end of the unofficial part one. I'm looking forward to the next part, I get to add all the big characters and we'll have all six original avengers (although I guess in this they wont really be the originals since this team will be the originals...)


	16. The Goose and the girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott gets a visitor and the team finally get a much needed break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second part of the book! I actually got to this point, yay!

_01/02/2016, 12:03_

Wanda was tired. It had been days since the surgery and Pietro still wasn't awake. People were supposed to wake up sooner than this right? This can't be normal. The doctors kept telling her it was to be expected but that didn't ease the ache in her chest.

She'd hardly left the hospital since Pietro had been moved into the S.H.I.E.L.D academy’s recovery ward. Bobbi had managed to get her away for long enough to give her a tour but other than that, she hadn't left. They had showers and chairs and food in the recovery ward so what need would she have to leave?

Unfortunately the recovery ward wasn't quite bub enough to have private rooms which meant other beds were set up in case any other patients needed the facilities. Their room was almost empty except for one other patient.

“I brought food!” Clint yells as he storms into the room. He's still on crutches - much to his dismay - and holding a take away bag awkwardly in one hand as he tries to manoeuvre his way through the door.

He shuffles over to the bed and sets the food bag on the bedside table. As usual he makes his way over to the coffee machine and grabs the coffee pot and drinking straight from it, not even bothering to use a mug.

“Why can't you just use a mug? Other people might want to use that you know.” She huffs, leisurely leaning back in her chair.

“I'm too tired for this. Try talking to me when I've finished my coffee.” He grumbles as he moves over to his bed and flops down.

It had mostly just been the three of them since they arrived back at the academy, with a few visits from doctors and his teammates to punctuate the long, frustrating hours.

“Haven't you healed enough to leave by now? You're up and walking so it can't be too bad.” She scowls.

“Someone's got to keep you company.” he swings his legs onto the bed, lying down and closing his eyes, “Besides, the second I leave Bobbi is going to run me ragged to try and make up for lost time. I'd rather be in tip top shape for her torture.” He slings the arm that's not clutching the coffee pot over his eyes to block out the harsh industrial lighting of the room.

“I've got Pietro to keep me company, I don't need you.” She squeezes his Pietro hand, hoping he’ll finally squeeze hers back.

“Suit yourself. That must be why you're such a pleasure to be around.” He groans, taking another swig of coffee, “How's he doing?” Clint dropping any light hearted air.

“The Doctor said he should wake up any day now. It's just a matter of time.” Wanda mutters. Absentmindedly she rubs the back of Pietros hand with her thumb, the way he did when she was sick. She shouldn't be making that motion, it should be him. Any other way feels wrong.

Silence lays steadily around them. Lurking. Wanda can't tell if it's comforting or awkward. The warm gnawing in her stomach tells her a little bit of both.

“The foods going to get cold.” Clint says, snapping the silence.

Reluctantly she lets go of Pietros hand and walks over to the other side of his bed where the food is waiting. As much as Clint annoys her, she enjoys it when he brings her up proper food not just the gross bland stuff the hospital provides. He refuses to tell her where it all comes from although she suspects Natasha is stealing it from the academy's kitchens.

She opens the bag as she sits back down on her chair. The warmth of the food radiates through the bag comfortingly. She clutches the bag with her chilled hands, savouring the warmth. There's a large tupperware box filled with a dark red dish hidden underneath all the napkins that have been hastily shoved in the bag. As soon as she opens the box, the familiar smell of home washes over her.

“Paprikash?” She asks, “I haven't had this in years…” she mumbles, looking over at Pietro.

“Tasha thought you would like it.” Clint says. He hasn't moved a muscle, still flopped on the bed with one arm over his face and the other gripping the almost empty coffee pot. He is just as tired as he was before downing the equivalent of five cups of coffee. Does coffee even have any effect on him?

“Well she thought right.” Wanda says. She shovels the food into her mouth with no hesitation. She hadn't realise quite how hungry she was until the food had reached her mouth.

Clint has sat up, no longer his usual dysfunctional puddle of a being. He's unconsciously glaring at his crutches which are unceremoniously leaning against his bed. His eyes are glazed over, not looking at the crutches but seemingly looking through them. Completely entangled in his own little world.

“Bobbi and Tasha are coming around later today to walk me back to my dorm, you could come with us if you want. Banners going to come to our part of the academy for a change. It could be good to clean the air between you two. I know you didn't get off to a good start.” Clint suggests.

“You're leaving?” Wanda says stoically. It'll be strange to be alone in this room. She'd grown used to the company, even if she hadn't grown fond of it.

“Yeah, they want me back in training. I'm not exactly allowed to lounge around doing nothing all day in recovery, as much as I might like to.” Clint groans, swinging his legs off of the bed so he’s perched precariously on the edge.

“Someone has to stay with Pietro incase he wakes up.” Wanda states after a pregnant pause. Clint nods along, already knowing what her response would be.

“Well the invitation stands. Don't be a stranger.” Clint sighs.

He grabs onto his crutches and slips his arms into them. He's clearly improved a lot since arriving in the ward. He's still limping slightly but he's able to move across the room with ease and a natural pace. It's a skill. He demonstrates now as he traverses the room. His hand fumbles with the door as he tries to navigate opening the door and holding his crutches at the same time.

“I'll be back later for my last proper check up. Make sure you shower.” Clint says, crumpling his nose up as he passes her. The familiar stab of anger towards the boy makes a reappearance. It's not as if he smells much better. She holds her silence as he shuffles his way out of the door, leaving her alone.

In that moment she thinks loneliness must be the most painful feeling in the world.

~~~

_01/02/2016, 17:09_

Scott is sweaty and gross. Not a look that he suits. If this is how sweaty and smelly he gets in a vest and tracksuits, how gross will he be doing these kinds of battles in the ant man suit? He suddenly understands why Clint has a sleeveless costume.

“Why are these suits so hard to get off? They're just a vest and tracksuit, isn't their purpose to be comfortable and easy?”Scott grumbles as he tries to pry his way free of the clothes Fury had provided them.

“When has S.H.I.E.L.D ever made things easy?” Clint mumbles.

Ever since he got injured he's managed to avoid the tedious beatings of their training sessions but Bobbi still makes him come and watch every session to observe. Clint would wait outside the changing rooms for him after every session and give training tips. Despite all of S.H.I.E.L.D's funding they haven't installed sound proof changing rooms allowing for the strange locker room conversations they have after a tiring day.

After what had happened in Russia they'd been trying to work together better. Scott had been trying to probe he wasn't completely useless in a battle but so far he hadn't been successful.

“I'm getting in the shower now before all the agents in training show up and use all the hot water.” Scott announces.

Say what you want about S.H.I.E.L.D but their showers are the nicest. Scott had spent months in a prison with shit showers so a good shower was one of his favourite things (after Cassie and baths of course).

Soon enough all the students of the academy would come traipsing in and ruin his happy moment. As operations students they didn't get many rewards or nice things but these showers were one of the few. The students knew it and they made the most of the small reward by spending what felt like hours wasting all the warm water.

Scott wasn't a S.H.I.E.L.D academy student and never would be so he didn't tend to spend much time with the other kids. He only stayed in the operations building because of his work with the defenders. In all honesty, he was nowhere near qualified for this place.

All the kids wore the same almost military uniform and marched like trained soldiers. None of them dared question their teachers or the system. Scott would never fit in here. If he were actually training to be an agent he be with Bruce in science and development. He'd much rather see things go bang and make technical wonders than be forced to do press ups every day. He liked to think that if things had been different he would've gone into engineering and made something of himself but that was never meant to be.

Clint and the others, on the other hand, fit in like a glove. Even Hope was happily learning all the moves to accompany her new found battle strategies.

There's a loud knock on the door of his shower cubicle. Scott reaches over and turns the water off so the sound of rushing water doesn't drown out the person on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?” Scott calls out to the almost silent shower room.

“It's Clint. You need to get out and get dressed. Apparently there's a visitor for you. I need to go to the recovery ward for my check up but they said to tell you to go to Fury's office.”

A visitor? The only person that even knows where Scott is is Pym, but there’s no way he’d ever come to the academy. The man might’ve been willing to send Hope and Scott to S.H.I.E.L.D but that didn’t mean he liked the organisation. From the time Scott had spent with the family, it was clear to see that half of Pym’s mind was always stuck somewhere else. He didn’t even have time for Hope. If Scott didn’t know any better he would say the man was trying to get rid of Hope.

“Okay.” Scott says, resting his head against the wall of the shower. Does life at S.H.I.E.L.D ever stop for long enough to let him rest?

Clint's footsteps slowly fade away as he shuffles out of the room. The familiar clunk of his crutches follows every step he takes. Scott waits until the sound has completely stopped, silenced by the thud of the door slamming closed, before leaving the shower.

He wraps the towel around himself and scrambles out of the room. His clothes are still neatly folded on the bench. His stinky workout clothes are unceremoniously shoved to one side to make way for his relaxation clothes. He’d been expecting to just lounge around with the others all evening, not to be playing host to some unknown visitor. Maybe the old grey t-shirt, ripped jeans and red flannel shirt weren’t the best options for the occasion but it’s not like he has any other option.

He pulls his clothes on as quickly as he can, hopping around the room unceremoniously. In fact, he’s still pulling on his t-shirt as he pushes himself through the doors and into the corridor. His shoes are in one hand and his backpack is slung over one shoulder, the strap cutting into him. It’s not the most graceful he’s ever looked but he’s too tired to care at this point.

He gets a few weird looks as he stumbles into the elevator but no one says anything. He’s not an agent but they know his ranking in the scheme of things so look past his weirdness.

He quickly stabs the button for Director Fury’s office, dreading the inevitable churning of his stomach. Despite what he had believed, he had gotten used to the sensation. Flying in a quinjet does tend to put motion sickness into perspective. He imagines flying in those death machines at top speed is comparable to the feeling of being in a rocket. Hope had only rolled her eyes when he said that but he still firmly believe it.

As the elevator rises he clenches his fists but manages to keep himself from clutching onto the bar that lines one of the walls. The one good thing about the speed is that the trip is over soon and he is allowed to stumble drearily into the corridor.

His feet unconsciously lead him to Fury’s office, one of the few places he remembers the location of. He’d been given a rushed tour when they first got back from Russia but he’d been too tired to properly memorise the various locations. He’d only really been to Fury's office, the training rooms, the dorms and the canteen since then (excluding the one time he’d visited Pietro and Wanda in the recovery ward).

His feet shuffle across the floor, hardly losing contact with the surface below. He’s finally slung the backpack onto his other shoulder which does wonders for his back. He lets his arms hang limply at his side, one hand still clutching his shoes. He considers putting them on but quickly banishes the thought.

“Fury…?” Scott says as he knocks on the hard, black wood of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D’s office door.

There’s a strange shriek from inside the room very unlike Fury. The visitor?

The sound is quickly followed by the sound of footsteps rushing towards the door. Before he has time to process the situation the door is flying open, narrowly missing him. Luckily his reflexes are just about good enough to get him out of harm's way before he broke his face and ended up in the recovery ward with the Maximoffs.

A small figure barrels into him, almost knocking him over. The person buries their head in him and his clothes, gripping him for dear life. Their fists clench the material like a vice. He seriously wonders whether his shirt would rip if he tried to tear it out of the persons hand.

After his brain has caught up with the situation he realises how familiar the person is. He’s seen those familiar long brown plaits before. That smell...like lavenders after rain. How many times did he sit beside her hospital bed unable to smell anything but that smell?

“Cassie?” He mutters, eyes wide. His arms are still limp by his side but he’s let go of his shoes now, letting them fall to the ground carelessly.

Cassie refuses to let go of him, keeping herself firmly attached onto his side. His hands come up around her to lock her in a tight hug. She’s still small and frail like she was when he last saw her but there’s definitely more fat on her bones now. Her cheeks have filled out and are rosy again.

She looks _alive_.

“What are you doing here?” He says once Cassie has finally released him.

Fury is sat behind his desk, a ginger cat on his lap. He’s looking at Scott with such ferocity but his hand is gently stroking the cat with a tenderness Scott didn’t know Fury was capable of.

There is no one else present in the room but Cassie’s small travel bag is resting next to the small sofa that is hidden in the corner of the office. Her books are strewn on the floor carelessly where she is seemingly displaying them for Fury.

“She was released from the hospital yesterday and refused to go anywhere before seeing you. Her adoptive parents got in contact with Pym who called me. WE decided it would be okay for her to stay here for a few days as she recovered. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D has some of the highest quality facilities in the world.” Fury explains.

The ginger cat on his lap jumps off of Fury’s lap and hops onto his desk. It paces from side to side, paying no heed to the stacks of paperwork it’s treading on with it’s muddy paws. That would explain the strange smudges on some of the paperwork Fury hands them.

“Her adoptive parents agreed to that?” Scott asks.

They had always been unfairly harsh towards Scott. Him going to prison hadn’t helped his case to be honest but it still hurt. They tried their hardest to stop him from seeing her in hospital but since he provided the cure for her congenital heart defect they couldn’t in good conscience keep him away.

“They didn’t have much choice. Cassie was adamant about seeing you.” Scott didn’t need to be told that twice.

She stares up at him, her eyes full of the fire he remembered in her. Nothing could ever destroy that spark in her. Even on her worst days it was still burning strongly. Nothing could sway her.

“Fury said you’re a superhero!” She yells, grabbing his hand.

“I guess I am.” Scott looks over at Fury. He’d never expected the man to allow him to tell Cassie about the Defenders and the Ant-Man suit, even if she was staying here for a while.

“What’s your superpower?” She asks, jumping from foot to foot and tugging his arm. Fury is casually leaning back in his chair smugly. The man is more than happy to have Cassie’s attention focused on something other than him for a change.

“I can shrink really small and grow really big. I haven’t exactly gotten the hang of growing big yet though…” He mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“Cool!” She gasps, looking up at him with her huge, adoring eyes. God he’d missed her so much.

“You can take her away to your quarters now, I’ve got pressing business to attend to and I don’t take kindly to being reduced to a babysitter for your kid sister.” Fury grumbles, shooing them out of the room.

“Here’s your watch Mr. Fury.” Cassie says, pulling a huge expensive looking watch off of her tiny wrist. There’s still a medical band tied around her wrist, untouched. It’s so tight now that it must be cutting her blood supply off. He’ll have to cut it off when they get back to the dorms.

She rushes towards Fury’s desk and hold the watch out to him. He moves to take it but the cat gets there before him. HUge tentacles burst out of his mouth, grabbing ahold of the watch and drag it down into its mouth without a moments notice.

Fury doesn’t flinch but sends the cat (is it even a cat?) and angry glare. The...cat almost looks guilty, folding it's ears down and averting it’s gaze from the one eyed man.

“Goose….” Fury growls, staring Goose down. The cat promptly opens it’s mouth and retches the now slightly less appealing watch up. It lands in a gross, sticky puddle on his desk. A whole stack of papers have been drenched in whatever alien cat vomit came out of Goose.

“Cool…!” Cassie gasps, running towards Goose excitedly.

“What the hell kind of cat is that?” Scott exclaims.

Scott tries to grab Cassie and keep her away but she’s already reached the desk. She grabs Goose gently and pulls her into her arms like a baby. She snuggles into her, purring loudly. She rubs her face on Cassie's arm, looking for affection. Her tentacles make no reappearance through the exchange but Scott doesn’t lower his guard for a second.

Sure S.H.I.E.L.D has its fair share of weird things but this takes the cherry.

“Goose. She’s called Goose.” Fury says curtly. Scott waits patiently for an explanation but none comes.

“Can she come with us?” Cassie asks, bouncing Goose up and down in her arms. The cat, surprisingly, seems fine with Cassie’s strange way of interacting with what is definitely an alien cat.

“Sure, just don’t let her eat anyone, especially not Barton. I’m growing attached to the guy.” Fury says, looking down at his paperwork again.

“Come on! Let’s show your other friends Goose!” Cassie exclaims, more excited about her new alien friend than Scott could’ve imagined. She always did love strange things like Goose, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“It’s going to be quite the conversation…” Scott sighs under his breath.

“I can’t wait to meet them all! Your friends are always the best.” Cassie begins walking out of the door, not paying any mind to Fury anymore.

“Goose isn’t going to eat Cassie or anything...right?” Scott asks once Cassie is out of earshot.

Fury looks up at Scott, deadpan. He doesn’t say a word and just stares at Scott without blinking.

“God that’s terrifying…” Scott mutters. He keeps eye contact for a few seconds but is forced to back down. There’s no way he can win a staring contest with the man.

“Good luck, Lang.” Fury calls after Scott as he chases after Cassie.

“It seems like I’m going to need it!” Scott shouts back as he runs out of the room.

Cassie is already all the way down the hall, stood in front of Coulson without any hesitancy. Did her new parents not teach her stranger danger? Scott supposes he wouldn’t be too scared of strangers if he was holding Goose.

“Cassie!” Scott calls out to Cassie, coming to a stop at her side.

“I see Goose took a shine to Cassie.” Coulson laughs, scratching Goose behind the ears.

“I suppose so…” Scott says, too weary of the creature to dare approach it.

“I’ll walk you both to the dorms. I want to talk to Clint when he gets back from the Recovery ward.” Coulson says, stepping out of Cassie’s way.

“Lead the way then, Agent.” Scott says, taking his place at Cassie’s side.

Coulson nods curtly, taking the lead. He’s surprisingly quiet, despite his harmless demeanour. Scott almost forgot he was as much an agent as Fury, Clint, Natasha and Bobbi. Arguably more so.

When Wanda and Pietro un-officially joined the team, they got an upgrade on their dormitories. It seems them adopting strays off of the street had now been factored into their living arrangements. Before they hadn’t had enough rooms in one place for the growing team.

Coulson leads them to the door to their dorms. It’s supposed to be fingerprint locked so only the team’s hands can use the door handle but Coulson must be one of the people included on that list since it opens with ease at his touch.

The door swings open to reveal the swanky looking living room that connects the ten bedrooms they have been allocated. It’s the central piece of their little enclosed flat. A common area of sorts.

There’s a small kitchen in one corner which is currently being manned by Bobbi who is remarkably bad at cooking despite her pleas otherwise. It's not the fanciest kitchen in the world but it has cupboards, a fridge, a sink, a cooker and a microwave so what more do you need.

Each of the 4 walls has three doors attached onto it, Bobbi and Natasha’s rooms are both attached to the kitchen along with the door to the showers. The doors are hidden next to the fridge giving them the easiest access to the food. They’d clearly thought their room choices through.

Clint's room is on the opposite side to them, right next to the front door. He has yet to sleep in the room but he’s already stuck an arrow in the door to mark his territory and filled the room with what little stuff he has. His room is next to an empty room which separates his room and the toilets.

Hope and Scott have their rooms next to each other on one of the other walls. There are empty rooms surrounding the rest of the walls, waiting to be claimed by Pietro, Wanda and whoever else ends up joining them. With the way Wanda and Pietro have been glued together it is entirely possible that they end up sharing a room.

Most of the area is taken up by a little living room. Two sofas take up most of the space in the room, both facing a large TV that is propped up on the wall between Scott and Hope’s rooms. Bean bags and poufs are strewn around the rest of the space haphazardly.

Natasha is curled up in a ball on the sofa, a old worn book in her hands. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s dressed in a baggy AC/DC t-shirt which seems to be her favourite, and leggings.

Bruce is sat on the opposite side of the sofa to her in a similar position. He’s not curled up but he’s managed to make himself small enough that he gives the same impression. There’s a newer looking physics book in his hand but he’s studying it with the same ferocity as Natasha.

Bruce doesn’t actually live in the flat with them but he comes by to visit occasionally when the situation calls for it. Apparently Clint's return is special enough for him so they are graced with his ghostly presence.

Hope is still in her work out clothes, practising some moves while Bobbi attempts her cooking. They both seem to be teaching each other, incapable of ever doing one thing at a time.

“Meet the gang Cassie.” Scott says as he moves into the room to let her in.

Coulson shifts awkwardly in the corner of the room as Cassie runs in with Goose. The others all look up from what they’re doing. Bobbi almost sets fire to her scrambled eggs as she looks away from the stove to inspect Cassie.

“Gang, this is my sister Cassie.” Scott says. He’s mentioned Cassie to most of them before, unable to shut up about her for even a second but who knows what they were imagining.

“This is Natasha,” Scott points to Natasha who closes her book and sets it to the side with a small wave to Cassie.

“...Bruce,” Bruce waves as he hears his name,

“...Hope,” Hope relaxes her stance and wipes her sweaty head with her towel, ending her little training session,

“And Bobbi.” Bobbi doesn’t look up, trying hopelessly to scrape her food off of the pan and onto her little paper plate. Apparently Fury can trust them with multi million dollar weapons (which they did end up completely destroying in battle) but not with china plates. Go figure.

“Nice to meet you Cassie. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Hope says, striding towards Cassie.

“Hope is the one who helped me get your medicine.” Scott mutters into Cassie’s ear. Cassie lightens up instantly at the news, smiling widely at Hope.

“What’s with the cat? Family pet?” Natasha asks, turning in her seat to fully face Scott and Cassie.

“She’s Fury’s and I’m almost certain she’s not a cat.” Scott keeps one eye on Goose at all times.

“Her name is Goose and she’s the coolest cat ever! I’m getting a cat like her when I’m older.” Cassie finally sets Goose down on the floor,letting her roam the common area freely.

“I recommend keeping your distance from her if you like living.” Scott warns, knowing full well that they won’t heed his words.

Goose roams around happily, rubbing against Bobbi’s legs in search of food or affection. She almost feels like a real cat, if it wasn’t for her creepy deadly mouth tentacles.

“What are you doing here then Cassie?” Bruce asks softly as Cassie sits between him and Natasha on their sofa.

“I just got out of hospital and wanted to see my brother so I’m staying here for a few days.” Cassie explains without hesitation. Her voice is steady and unphased despite everything she’s seen and learnt today.

“Fury said you’re all superheroes! What’s your superpower?” Cassie asks Bruce. He squirms slightly but slowly sets his book to one side.

“I can...change into a monster called they Hulk when I get angry.” Bruce explains quietly, his voice steady despite the look in his eyes.

“Woahhhh, that’s so cool! What about you!” She turns her attention onto Hope. The shift makes Bruce instantly relax, draining the tension in his muscles.

“I’ve got the same suit as your brother but I also have wings.” Hope explains patiently. In all the time Scott has known her he’s never heard her so soft.

“Why don’t you have wings?” Cassie turns on Scott now, her head tilted to one side.

“Favouritism.” Cassie frowns but doesn’t question Scott any further.

“What about you?” Bobbi looks up from her food to see Cassie pointing an accusatory finger at her.

Cassie crosses her legs, getting her dirty shoes on the nice new sofas. That’s going to be a nightmare to clean. No doubt they’ll make Scott do it.

“I’m a supersoldier, so I’m stronger and have faster healing than most people.” Bobbi scrapes the burnt mess that is her eggs into the bin which is already filled with ten egg shells.

“Like Captain America?” Cassie perks up. She’d always loved when Scott told her stories about good old Captain America.

“Not quite. They were trying to make me like him but I’m nowhere near his level. I’m only a bit stronger than most people.” Bobbi laughs, completely giving up on cooking.

“I’m sure you’re just as cool.” Cassie offers, smiling.

“I’d like to think so.” Bobbi smiles, taking a seat on the other sofa with Hope.

Scott walks over and takes a seat on the sofa next to Hope. She doesn’t look at him but she also doesn’t shift away or outright move which is a good sign.

“What about you?” Cassie asks Natasha. Goose has trotted back to Cassie and jumps up onto her lap, purring loudly.

“I don’t have super powers but I’m good with a gun. I can give you some lessons while you’re here.” Natasha smirks with a glint in her eyes.

“YES!”

“NO!” Scott and Cassie shout at the same time. Cassie pouts at him, crossing her arms and stopping stroking Goose.

“Maybe in a few years…” Bobbi suggests. Cassie sighs and grumbles but doesn’t bring up the lessons again.

“How about a film?” Coulson asks from his little hidden corner. Scott almost jumps, having completely forgotten Coulson was even there. He faded into the background too well.

“I’ve got the perfect film…” Cassie says.

Scott cant help but feel nothing good can come of letting Cassie choose…

~~~

01/02/2016, 19:12

Clint is so glad to be out of the recovery ward. He doesn’t really want to leave Wanda alone in that room with Pietro but he would literally die if he spent anymore time in there. He needs to be up and doing stuff, not waiting in bed and outside of changing rooms.

He’s not allowed to completely ditch his crutches but he’s at least allowed to train with the others now. He might say that he likes the break but in reality it's killing him. He always feels better when he’s actually preparing for whatever battle is coming up next.

He’s looking forward to moving into his room properly. He set everything up earlier with Bobbi’s help but he hasn’t really moved in. The room is bigger than his old one, something he’s definitely going to need to get used to.

As he approaches the door, the sound of loud giggling becomes clearer and clearer. Who the hell is giggling? What’s happening in their room?

He grabs the door handle and feels the door unlock under his hand with a heavy click. He opens the door cautiously to examine the scene in front of him.

Everyone is gathered in the room, lounging on the sofas to watch a cute animated film about rabbits. All the usual people are there along with Banner, Coulson, a cat and a little girl. The cat is happily curled up in the little girl’s lap, who is - in turn - on Scott’s lap. She’s wriggling around like no ones business, unable to physically remain still.

The girls hair keeps falling in his face and obscuring his vision. Apparently moving his hand to brush her hair out of the way is too time consuming but pathetically attempting to blow it out of the way isn't.

Suddenly the scene turns dark and the once cute rabbits are suddenly being buried alive in a gruesome depiction of mass murder.

“Well that took a disturbing turn.” Scott mumbles, wide eyed.

“Wait until you get to the second half of the film” The girl smiles maniacally. She reaches and hand over and grabs a handful of popcorn from a bowl in Natasha’s lap. Coulson must’ve given it to them, I can’t imagine how else they could’ve found popcorn all the way out here, miles away from any shops.

“I thought you said this was a kids film.” Bobbi says almost horrified. Her legs are strewn over the arm of the sofa she’s lying on and her head is resting on Hope’s lap.

“It’s a film about the holocaust. The rabbits are being gassed. It's a children's film based on an adults book based on the holocaust.” Natasha mumbles with her mouth is still full of popcorn.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before we put it on?” Scott asks, trying to cover the little girl's eyes. She isn’t at all impressed and pulls his hands out of the way as the scene ends. Natasha shrugs nonchalantly and returns to eating her popcorn.

“What the…” Clint mutters.

“Ah, in flies the Hawkeye.” Natasha announces, nudging the little girl.

“What’s going on?” Clint rests his crutches against the wall to give him more freedom to move around the room.

“Scott’s little sister, Cassie, has come to visit. She chose the film by the way.” Banner says from his hidden spot on the couch next to Scott and the girl who must be Cassie.

“Nice to meet you Cassie.” Clint supposes this must’ve been the visitor who was waiting in Fury’s office. She doesn’t look that much like Scott but they have very similar mannerisms especially when it comes to them eating the popcorn. Every movement almost looks unrehearsed.

"So this is where you guys were instead of coming to pick me up from the recovery ward." Clint grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring and Natasha and Bobbi in turn. Bobbi has the decency to look guilty but Natasha just shrugs. 

"I've got such good friends..." He sighs. He slowly begins to manoeuvre his way over to the couch where Hope and Bobbi are slouched.

“Mind if I take a seat?” He asks, considering whether he should kick Bobbi to make her sit up. In the end he decides not to, not wanting to be a bad role model for Cassie.

“If you insist.” Bobbi sighs, sitting up with an overly dramatic sigh.

“You’re so generous.” Clint rolls his eyes, quickly claiming the seat before she changes her mind.

Bobbi swings her legs off of the arm rest and sits down on the sofa properly for once. She kinda rests her shoulder against Clint, leaning into him slightly. Everyone else is engrossed in the strange, old film playing.

“How are you doing?” Bobbi whispers as quietly as she can manage. How many times has he heard that in the last few days?

“I’m spiffy.” He groans, just as quietly as her.

“No one is fine you know. None of us. It’s okay to be not okay for a change. You should talk to someone though.” Bobbi looks at him, pleading with her stupid big doe eyes.

They both sit there quietly watching each other for what feels like hours but cant be more than a few seconds. She takes his hand without breaking eyes contact. Her eyes prod him, looking for some kind of chink in his armour. She doesn’t have to look far to be honest. Clint’s armour has been hammered and beaten too many times to count, he likes to think that only makes it stronger though.

Clint is the first to look away, turning back to the film. He has no clue what is going on and isn’t even really seeing the film. He just wants somewhere else to look and compose himself for a few seconds.

“Loads of people died Bob.” He whispers, knowing she’ll hear him anyway. He doesn’t look at her but he doesn’t need to. He knows her well enough to know exactly how she looks in that moment.

“It was our job to keep them alive and we failed. That blood is on our hands.” He hisses, squeezing her hand slightly.

“That blood isnt on us. We didn’t kill them. We just need to do better next time.” Bobbi says with the cold brutality SHIELD taught her. He forgets there is this side of her. The soldier that replaces the girl.

“That’s what we said last time when that city of people were slaughtered.” Clint growls, biting his lip, “It just feels like we’re showing up and finding the bodies. We’re not defending anything. All our fights are just us avenging the dead.”

“Then that’s what we do. We go in and be avengers. We find the bodies and promise ourselves we will do better next time. We do our jobs until it finally pays off.” Bobbi lets go of his hand and gives him a weak smile.

“The avengers.” He mumbles.

“Much cooler than Defenders if you ask me.” Bobbi smiles and leans on him gently. Her hair tickles his exposed neck but he doesn’t dare shift. He tries to focus on the film but knows it's a hopeless endeavour. There’s no way he can focus on whatever is being played on the TV.

“I’m sorry to ruin the moment but I was wondering if I could talk to you, Clint.” Coulson says, tapping his shoulder softly. Clint flinches violently, knocking Bobbi off of him and elbowing Hope in the stomach.

“Hey! Watch it.” Hope scowls, looking more than ready to punch him back.

“When they bloody hell did you get there?” Clint sighs, pressing one hand over his heart.

“I’ve been here for a while. Not directly behind you but close enough.” Coulson flashes his usual, puppy dog smile, “Anyway, would you mind chatting?” He repeats the question, hugging a file to his chest like a love sick teenage girl.

“Yeah, sure.” Clint drearily forces himself off of the couch once more to follow Coulson out of the flat into the corridor.

He looks back at Bobbi as he leaves to room. She smiles meekly at him and looks down at her lap, her hair falling gracefully over her face as she looks down. He feels a flush of warmth blossom on his face as he shuffles through the room after Coulson.

He considers grabbing his crutches before leaving the room but leaves them there. He won’t be gone for long. He’s not going to need crutches. They’ll just get in the way and slow him down.

As he slips out of the room, he spots Coulson standing patiently in the empty corridor that connects their flat to Fury’s office. He’s still clutching his file and smiling dopily.

“Avengers, huh…” Coulson smiles brightly as Clint reaches him, “I’ll have to bring up the name change with Fury.”

“What did you want to talk about?” Clint asks harshly. He instantly hates himself for using that tone with Coulson. The man had been amazing from day one to him and Natasha. Clint couldn’t just go around taking his anger out on everyone.

Coulson doesn’t seem in the least bit phased. He’s just as happy go lucky as ever. He’s always energetic, a trait Clint is incredibly jealous of. Recently it’s as if all of Clint energy is being drained out through the course of the day and even copious amounts of coffee can’t plug the gaps.

“I’ve been given a mission in New Mexico. A 0-8-4 has been sighted, something of an unknown origin. It’s nothing that’ll involve fighting but it could be good for you to get out. You’re still not in any shape to be sparing with the others but a trip out to New Mexico could be good for your recovery.” Coulson offers his file to Clint. Clint takes it hesitantly, keeping it closed.

“Why me?” Clint asks with narrowed eyes.

“Because you’re a good shot which could always come in handy. I believe you’ll be very useful, even if you don’t believe it yourself.” Coulson says, deadly serious. He places his hand on Clint’s shoulder and squeezes it very gently.

“Think it through. I’m leaving in one hour from the lobby if you want to come. I’d appreciate it if you kept the contents of the file to yourself until we’ve figured out the nature of the 0-8-4.” Coulson says softly, releasing his gentle hold on Clint.

“Okay.” Clint nods slowly. He’s already turning to return to the flat and his friends.

“I hope to see you there.” Coulson says as Clint walks away.

In truth Clint doesn’t need time to think about it. He already knows what his decision is. What his decision will always be.

And Coulson knows it too.

~~~

02/02/2016, 00:01

Thor’s head is pounding. Light is dancing through his eyelids. It’s too bright. Dust is choking him, clogging up his lungs. He coughs violently but there is always more dust to take its place. A never ending cycle.

He presses his hand against his head, trying to dull the ringing of his head. Travelling through the Bifrost isn’t normally this painful? Why does every part of him ache so much? Why is he lying on the floor? Where even is he?

He opens his eyes slowly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. A storm is circling him, another new feature of the Bifrost.

Electricity crackles at his hands but dies away very quickly. He tries to summon more but, unsurprisingly fails. Without Mjolnir controlling the lightning is damn near impossible. A great feat he has yet to accomplish.

He pushes off of the ground only to slump back down, pushed down by the billowing winds and the onslaught of dust, nausea and dizziness.

“I’m going to kill you for this when I get back to Asgard, Heimdall.” He mutters under his breath.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, preparing himself. Before he has time to over think things and lose his balance, he pushes himself off of the ground and onto his own two feet. The world rushes around him but he is indeed, once again, upright.

Before he knows it, something barrels into him, smashing him back down to the ground. If he’d been aware enough he might’ve cursed or at least fought back but he’s too tired to do anything but fall back onto the ground, losing all of his progress.

The last thing he sees before completely blacking out is the familiar markings of the Bifrost etched into the floor of whatever strange land he has landed on. He already hates it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since seeing Captain Marvel a few weeks ago I've been wanting to add Goose into the story. Goose is honestly the best character (anyone who says otherwise is wrong). I actually really loved Captain Marvel but unfortunately the film kinda goes against some of the stuff I had planned for the story so I will have to change some stuff unfortunately.  
> Did you guys also like Captain Marvel?  
> The newest Endgame trailer was too emotional. I'm going to be a wreak in the cinema.
> 
> (anyone know what film they were watching...probably not)


	17. New Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor deals with his first experiences of Midgard while Clint joins Coulson on a mission

_02/02/16, 05:55_

Bruce is the first one to wake in the morning. It's not surprising really. Before S.H.I.E.L.D, when he was living from a backpack and moving with the wind, his days consisted of little sleep and even less rest. Unsurprisingly, not a particularly conducive environment for a growing boy. His dark bags had been with him for as long as he can remember and probably longer. Old habits die hard.

He sits up and stretches, wishing they'd all chosen a nicer place to sleep. Despite having ten rooms available (five rooms completely unoccupied), the whole group of them had decided to sleep in the common area on the poufs, bean bags and sofas. Natasha and Bobbi had quickly claimed the sofas for themselves leaving everyone else to scramble for a space on the floor.

His back clicks joyously as he stretches - freed from the hard, ruthless environment of the living room floor. Bruce had tried to stay as far away from the others in their little bundle which unfortunately required him to sacrifice the softer surfaces of the bean bags and cushions. If he had to make choice again he would make the same choice. He'd never been one to enjoy sleeping in camped, enclosed spaces with lots of other people. What would happen if he lashed out in his sleep? What if...?

He creeps past the others, letting his feet pad softly on the wooden floor. Once he's reaches the kitchen he begins pulling the place apart to find the ingredients he needs. Since he doesn't live here like the others it takes him longer than it should to locate everything (who the hell put the eggs on a little hidden perch above the cupboards?) but he eventually manages the feat. 

He hasn't made pancakes for years. Not since the Hulk. When he was younger and staying with the Ross family he used to make pancakes every weekend. Ross’ daughter Betty - who was about Bruce's age - had practically forced him to make them every weekend when her dad was out at work. Since he'd been working in the science division of the military back then his weekend morning when Ross was away was the only free time he had. He'd been more than happy to spend that time on Betty.

Just as he goes to crack the first egg, there's a faint hesitant knock on the door. It's so quiet he almost overlooks it. Almost passes it off as the wind. Everyone is still sound asleep, hardly moving a muscle. No one else is there to deal with this social situation for him. Cautiously, Bruce sets down his eggs and creeps over to the door. There's no further knocking but someone is shifting or pacing on the other side of the door.

Sighing, he opens the door. The mutant girl, Wanda, is stood in the entrance. Her fists are gripping her crumpled scarlet dress as tightly as she can manage. There's no scarlet smoke cloaking her or her hands but there's the familiar pressure of her abilities waiting to be set loose. It feels different to last time though. Now it forms a protective layer around her, rather than a probe feeling him out.

Bruce stiffens and grips the door with more force than he probably should. Her eyes widen at the sight of him as she jumps back slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asks through gritted teeth.

Bruce knew the Maximoffs were in the S.H.I.E.L.D academy of course, but knowing is different to seeing. So far she'd locked herself in the recovery ward with Pietro, a place Bruce had made sure to steer well clear of. Luckily, since Bruce slept, studied and lived in the science and technology part of the academy, it wasn't all that hard to avoid them. After all, the recovery ward was in the operations building. He didnt have a reason to be anywhere near operations except for last night. This was the first time he'd slept under the same roof as them and he damn well hoped it was the last (even if it was an incredibly large roof).

“Ummm… Clint said I could come…" She stammers, "He did mention you were here. He said we should clean the air between us.” Wanda adds hesitantly. Her voice slowly evens out as she speaks. She releases her hold on her dress and stands tall.

“Did he now?” Bruce hums with his teeth still gritted. It's times like this when he is glad he spent so much time mastering his control of his emotions. Even though his heart is thundering murderously in his chest he pushes down that anger, that fury. Slowly his heart rate drops, blocking the _other guy's_ appearance.

“He did.” She says with a slight swagger. It feels like a familiar coat she's donning. Armour. Something the brotherhood taught her he expects.

“Come on in then.” Bruce says after a tentative silence.

As much as Bruce may hate the girl, it's not his flat. If Clint invited her - for whatever reason it may be - he doesn't have the right to deny her entrance.

Wanda moves cautiously, always keeping her eyes on Bruce, but she doesn't give him any time to reconsider. She slows as she arrives in the flat. Examining her future home he supposes. Her eyes fall on the bundle of people scattered about the floor haphazardly.

“We were watching a film last night and no one wanted to get up to go to bed.” Bruce explains curtly. They look a mess. All of them are still in their everyday clothes which are now hopelessly crumpled.

He closes the door quietly behind him, not wanting to disturb anyone. None of them even stir at the sound. Not even Natasha.

He walks back to the kitchen and picks up his eggs. What better time to crack eggs than when you've got bottled up anger?

Wanda is wandering around the room endlessly. Beneath her new found swagger, she looks like a lost child. She's pacing. Looking for something to occupy herself. Without anyone else as a buffer between the two, it's uncomfortably quiet. This is why he makes a point to avoid socialising. People can be...difficult. How are you supposed to know how to deal with them? There's no text book or lessons for this. He knows by now that he should stick to what he knows.

“They've taken up all the sofas but you can sit on the bar stools.” Bruce says, already regretting it.

The bar stools are places by the kitchen counter. Fortunately, Bruce hadn't set up on the counter nearest the bar stools but they're closer than he would like to him.

Wanda walks over to the stools without hesitation and jumps up onto the stool furthest from Bruce. She begins tapping her finger on the counter top, drinking in the sight of the kitchen.

He can’t bring himself to turn his back on her. Always keeping her in front of him as he works on the pancakes. Bruce pointedly cracks the eggs loud enough to interrupt her tapping. She seems to get his message since she stops tapping and hides her hands in her lap underneath the counter.

“I am sorry, you know.” She mutters, coughing awkwardly. Despite himself, he finds himself believing her. Guilt is running amok in her eyes. Guilt isn't enough to earn forgiveness though.

“Is that so.” Bruce grumbles, scowling viciously. Her eyes harden, losing the soft exterior of before.

“I'm serious! I'm trying to make it up to you.” She growls. A fire has been lit in her. A ferocity she’d been hiding. In all honesty, he prefers it to how she was before. There's nothing worse than a wolf pretending to be a sheep.

“But what does it matter? You might be sorry but that doesn't change anything.” He says calmly. It doesn't matter how sorry she is, he can't forgive what she did. You don't just get over that kind of stuff.

She's still scowling but there's less ferocity. Less raw, unbridled fire in her eyes. She's staring off into the distance, her eyes glassy. It's like she's looking straight through him and the walls of this flat. Trapped in another world. Another place. Another time.

Bruce returns to the food, mixing the eggs with all the other ingredients to create a thin batter. The rhythmic movement of the whisking calms him down. Relaxes him. Grounds him. He'd forgotten how comforting this is. Nostalgia can be a powerful feeling.

“I’ve always been with Pietro you know.” She says quietly, not looking at Bruce. He keeps whisking but doesn't interrupt her. Sometimes people need to say things out loud.

“We’ve been alone ever since our parents were killed in an explosion. We took care of each other when no one else did. When people came to our house and tried to burn me at the stake, Pietro protected me. When people screamed and threw stuff at us we had no choice but to leave our home and live on the road.” She hisses through gritted teeth. The best comparison to make is to a wounded animal. Some dangerous, wounded creature backed into a corner.

He knew exactly how it felt to live that way. How it felt to live on the move without money or safety. To be alone. He supposes that technically neither of them were ever alone. She had Pietro while he had the Hulk. Never really completely alone.

“Do you know how long children like us last on the streets without money or food?” She pauses but doesn't actually want a response from him, “We only survived because the Brotherhood took care of us. If they hadn't found us we would've died. So yes, we were loyal to them because they protected us and kept us alive.” She says wearily. IT's strange that a girl of her age can sound so tired and worn.

They both sit there in silence unsure of what to say. Bruce still can't forgive what she did but he also can't hate her completely. He knows how horrible people can be better than anyone. He knows what that kind of treatment can turn you into. A vicious cycle of death and pain.

Luckily Bruce is saved from having to respond as Hope wakes up. One of Scott's arms is strewn over her haphazardly from where he has sprawled out. She's angled towards him, seemingly in bothered by his arm. For someone who often acts like she hates him, she's lying awfully close.

Hope sits up quickly, accidentally knocking Scott's arm off of her, waking him up. Like a chain of Domino's, he rolls over and wakes up Cassie who's still bundled up in his arms. She looks smaller than ever scrunched up in a ball between her brother and Goose. As Scott rolls onto her, semi conscious, she tries to wriggle away only to disturb a very sleepy Goose.

Goose doesn't waste a second running away and take shelter by Natasha's feet as the others groggily wake up. Goose begins scratching at Natasha's exposed toes causing the girl to jump awake and fling her knife directly at the unsuspecting cat. Bruce winces as the knife reaches its intended target but somehow Goose is back by Cassie’s side, somehow faster than Natasha's knife. Without the cat to stop it's movement, the knife sails by and embeds itself in the sofa right beside Bobbi’s head.

“What did I miss?” Bobbi says as she jumps up. She still looks kind of sleepy but about ten times more awake than the others lying on the floor.

Natasha groans in response, firing a sharp glare at Goose who seems to have already forgotten the whole affair. Somehow, as usual, Natasha is the most awake and aware out of them all. They say she doesn't have a super power but Bruce is willing to bet it's her ability to wake up in the morning. 

“Well that's one way to wake up.” Bruce mutters to himself, “Pancakes anyone?” He asks aloud, already knowing they'll all want food.

“Me!” Cassie screeches, jumping up and running over to Bruce much to Goose’s dismay. She stops still as she notices Wanda on the kitchen stool, “Who are you?” She asks curiously.

“My name is Wanda.” She says politely, squirming slightly in her seat.

“Are you a superhero like them?” Cassie asks as she takes a seat next to Wanda on the stools.

Bruce sets a knife and fork in front of the little girl which she accepts gratefully. He finishes off the pancake batter while the others chat, happy to sit to the side and just observe. Leave them to the socialising. 

“I guess you could say that…” Wanda mumbles, keeping her eyes fixed on Bruce. When he doesn’t say anything in response she finally takes her eyes off of him to focus on Cassie.

“What are your powers?” Cassie asks, shuffling closer to Wanda.

Instead of speaking, Wanda summons her scarlet smoke to the tips of her fingers and lets it weave lazily between her fingers. Bruce tightens his grip on the whisk at the sight of it but keeps quiet. She wouldn’t try anything here. Not with all of S.H.I.E.L.D here to stop her and with Pietro injured in the recovery ward.

The smoke slowly uncurls from her fingers and reaches over to Cassie’s fork. It twists around the metal and lifts it up so it floats in mid air. Wanda makes the fork dance around Cassie in midair, swooping and twirling like a bird on the wind. There's something graceful and mystical to the movements. It's not unlike Wanda herself.

“Woah! That’s amazing!” Cassie screeches, grabbing the fork out of midair. She holds it out to Scott who is still half asleep on the floor, “Did you see that?!”

“Yeah, Wanda’s pretty cool right.” Scott grumbles, trying to bury his face in the pouf. 

He's the last one still not up. Knowing Scott he could probably lie there all day if no one forced him up. Unfortunately for him, Hope has decided it is her job to whip him into shape for their mission. She struts over to him and kicks him gently on the side. Grumbling, he tries to bat her away to no avail. She dodges every one of his swipes, meeting every bat with a kick of her own into some other undefended part of the poor boy.

“Bruce is making pancakes! It’s time for you to get off your arse.” She chastises him.

“I’m getting up…” He groans. He rolls over slightly and finally catches Hopes foot just before it can make contact with his head. She wobbles for a few seconds but remains steady enough to keep herself on two feet.

Slowly but surely, he pushes himself onto his feet and stumbles over to the kitchen, sitting down on one of the chairs around the proper kitchen table. He places his head against the table top and sighs loudly.

Goose walks over to Scott, weaving between his legs. For some reason Scott almost jumps out of his skin at the feeling of Goose rubbing against him. Bobbi hands Scott a little tin of fish as she makes her way out of the kitchen back into the living room.

“Whats this for?” Scott wrinkles his nose up and the rather pungent smell of the briny fish.

“What do you think?” Bobbi sighs, “Goose.” She adds after seeing Scott’s blank face.

“I’m not putting my hands anywhere near that things mouth!” Scott exclaims, pushing the tin of fish away from him to the other side of the table.

“God, stop being a baby. It’s just a cat.” Hope says. She picks up the tin herself and bends down to Gooses level. Goose scampers over as she smells the fish, politely sitting down in front of her. Hope smiles softly and lets Goose eat the fish out of her hand.

“That thing isn’t a cat! Don’t let it trick you. You shouldn’t put your hand anywhere near it’s face.” Scott shudders as Goose keeps eating out of Hope’s hand. It almost looks like he's about to run over and knock the tin right out of her hands to stop her feeding Goose.

“Look, it's fine. She loves it. She’s such a good little kitty.” Hope coo’s, scratching Goose behind the ear.

“She’s alright now but wait until tentacles start coming out of her mouth!” Scott yells. Goose turns around at the sound causing Scott to instinctively jump back.

“You need to figure out how to tell dreams from reality.” Natasha snorts. She's finished pottering around the living room and takes a seat next to Scott, "I quite like her." Natasha bends down and gives Goose a quick scratch behind the ears. Goose purrs happily, rubbing up against Natasha now that the fish has run out.

“Where’s Clint?” Wanda interrupts. She’s looking around at the faces of all the flats residents, searching for Clint amongst the unfamiliar faces.

“Coulson called him away on a mission last night. He’ll probably be away for a couple of days.” Bobbi sighs. She pulls Natasha’s knife out of the sofa and hands it back to its owner. Carefully she plumps one of the cushions and places it over the hole the knife left in the material. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Did you come here to talk to him?” Bobbi takes a seat on the other side of Wanda.

“He invited me here yesterday, I can go if you want me to though.” Wanda says stoically. Bruce wishes she would just leave but know exactly what the others response will be.

“No, it’s fine! You shouldn’t be alone in the recovery ward all the time. Besides, we might end up being a team when Pietro recovers - we should get to know each other.” Bobbi smiles.

When she thinks no one is looking, Bruce catches Wanda smiling shyly to herself. She’s ringing her hands, resembling the pacing girl he found outside the flat rather than the dangerous mutant that tried to get him to kill innocent people. Maybe Bruce isn’t the only one who can have two personalities…

He still won’t turn his back on her, he doubt he ever will, but he hands her a mug of coffee. For now that’s enough. She smiles slightly at him as he hands it to her. It’s enough for her as well.

~~~

_03/02/2016, 07:04_

Thor wakes up with his head pounding. He tries to open his eyes but they don’t respond to him. Was he drinking last night? Did Loki slip something in his drink?

No.

There was a thing…a huge metal, mechanical thing that rammed into him. That must be why his head is pounding. It’s not just his head. Half of his whole body is aching and sore as it is after a battle.

“He’s waking up!” A voice shouts a little too loud for his ringing ears. He tries to cover his ears but finds his arms restricted. He pulls on the restraints but his fingers are too weak to find a hold.

Slowly, he opens his eyes only to be greeted with a harsh white light. As soon as his eyes are open, they close again, finding solace in the darkness. It’s so much nicer in the dark than the light. Maybe he should just keep his eyes closed forever…that sounds very nice.

“Is he okay?” A soft voice asks. Much softer than the last voice. It reminds him of his mother. Frigga. She’s a world away from him right now. Several worlds away. The comforting, familiar sound is enough to coax him out of the darkness and back into the world of the living.

“Where am I?” He groans.

There’s two girls stood over him, blocking his view of most of the room. One of the girls is right in his face, her dark hair hanging over him. She’s upside down and looking him with a fierce curiosity that is completely foreign to him. There's a strange hat on her head that is too bright against the white ceiling. Glasses are framing her face, slowly slipping down her face despite her best efforts to keep them up.

The girl pokes him gently in the face. Is this some kind of strange midgardian ritual? A greeting? He doesn’t remember being taught about this.

“Darcy! Give him some space.” The other girl grabs the girl - Darcy’s - arm. Darcy backs up slightly, albeit not by much. The little space it provides him is more than welcome. She's strange and like nothing he's ever seen before.

The second girl is much...quieter than the other girl. She’s softer. In a way she reminds him of Lady Sif. This girl might not have the same fighting spirit of his childhood friend but she holds the same regal, strong posture.

“Where am I?” He repeats. His hand moves to his head to try and quell the ache in his head. There’s a tube coming out of his hand and leading all the way to a strange bag of fluid beside him. What are these people doing to him?

The quieter girl grabs a hold of his arm and steadies him. Trying to keep him from pulling the tube out.

“You’re in a hospital, in New Mexico.” She says softly.

“Take your hands off of me!” He shouts, twisting out of her of grip. She might remind him of Lady Sif but she is not of Asgard. She is easy enough to overpower. Her hand slips off of him without any issue. She backs away slightly as he begins tearing off the tube.

He remembers now. He has a mission. _A job_. He needs to leave right now! He can’t waste anymore time in whatever this New Mexico place is. Every second he spends here is precious time lost in the defence of the nine realms.

As soon as he’s freed himself he jumps off of the bed, wobbling slightly with every step. Whatever they did to him is rendering him pathetically weak. The quieter girl tries to grab his arm to steady him but he pushes her away, knocking her into the wall. It’s not hard but it’s enough to stun her.

“What are you doing!” An older man that Thor hadn’t even noticed says. Their father?

“No, it’s fine.” The quieter girl says, stepping between Thor and the older man. Her hand is pressed against her head and she’s blinking slowly but she isn’t scared. Courage is an admirable quality.

“We need your help with a...project we’re working on. You’re the only person that has ever been that close to an Einstein-Rosen bridge. Please, help us.” The girl pleads, keeping her distance from him.

“I know nothing of this bridge you speak of.” He growls, trying to push past the girl. She grabs his wrist again to try and stop him.

“You might not realise it but you were inside one when we found you. Please, just hear us out.” She begs again, keeping her hand tightly wrapped around his wrist. Her skin is icy cold.

It feels like Loki.

Thor supposes that his cold skin must've been due to his Jotun blood. It's strange how many things make sense now.

“I have a mission to complete, I have no time for any of your petty midgardian problems! Do you not know who I am?!” He hisses. He can feel his temper rising again. What do these people think they know? He is a god! He has more important things than their bridge. The Allfather himself ordered this mission.

Thor is about to push the quiet girl to one side and escape from this place when a sharp, searing pain spreads through him. He feels himself losing consciousness again. He tries to fight it, to keep himself alert, but it's no use. As he collapses, the quieter girl sinks down with him, keeping him from face planting on the floor.

For the second time since arriving on Midgard, Thor falls into the darkness.

~~~

_04/02/2016, 01:26_

The ringing in his head is even worse this time than it was last time. It feels like something is ripping him apart from the inside.

There’s no soft bed this time. Now he’s lying on a hard, metal surface which makes his sore side ache even more. It’s not been a good day. How long has it even been? Has it been longer than a day? He’s been unconscious for so long that he can’t tell anymore.

He opens his eyes slowly but isn’t greeted with bright harsh light. It’s dark. Much darker. There are window around him that allow him to see the world beyond and it’s all dark. Stars glitter overhead telling him that it must be night.

He’s travelled to many realms in his battles and quests but he’s never looked at a world in this way. Never laid down and looked at the stars beyond.

When he was younger him and Loki would watch the stars from the highest towers of the Asgardian Palace but these stars aren’t the same ones. Of course they wouldn’t be the same, but it’s strange to see such an unfamiliar sky above him. It doesn't quite feel right. For the first time in his life, he aches for his home land. For Asgard and all it's glory. For his mother and father. For _Loki_...

He sits up at looks at his surroundings. They must be in some kind of Midgardian vehicle since they’re travelling through the desert. It’s not very roomy, with everyone packed into the small space. Metal surrounds them. Enclosing them. The whole box shakes as they trundle through the desert, seemingly hitting every bump in the road.

There’s the same three people he’d seen last time he woke up: Darcy, the quiet girl and the older man. Darcy is sat beside him, asleep. Her head is resting against the window awkwardly. She looks much younger asleep. These people are so young compared to him. Mere blimps in his timeline.

The other girl is sat opposite him. She’s not asleep and is instead reading from a book. Her hair frames her face perfectly, casting shadows over her face. Every bump of the vehicle displaces her book but she doesn’t seem at all phased. Used to the movement. There's a torch attached to her head to provide enough light for her to see the words on the pages. The light makes her shimmer in a strange, almost ethereal, way. She looks paler by the torch light.

The older man is driving the vehicle, sat in the front seat. He’s humming quietly to himself, lost in his own world.

“What’s happening.” He groans.

“You’re awake!” The girl drops her book and jumps up to look at him, “We took you out of the hospital and are driving back to our lab. I’m sorry it turned out this way, Darcy is a bit trigger happy with her taser…” The girl says apologetically.

“Taser?” He mutters. He’s never heard of such a weapon before. It’s like nothing they have on Asgard.

“It’s like a gun but less deadly. It gives you a mean electric shock.” The girl winces, “My name is Jane by the way. Jane Foster.”

“Thor Odinson.” Thor smiles despite himself. He likes this Jane girl.

"He's alive then." The older man grumbles, not taking his eyes off of the road. He moves his head back slightly so he can hear them better but doesn't dare move any further than that.

"Yeah, he seems fine." Jane says, looking him up and down.

"Your father?" Thor asks croakily. His throat aches from dehydration. It's a strange sensation. 

"Erik? No!" She says defensively, throwing her hands up, "No. Me and Darcy are just interning with him." Jane say slightly calmer. 

"Interning? My dear, you do more work than any intern in the history of interns. You should give yourself more credit. At this point you're as much a scientist as me." The man chuckles. Jane flushes at his words, biting her lip.

“Ah, he’s awake.” Darcy drawls. Drool is on her cheek and her hair is messed up from sleeping awkwardly but she doesn’t care at all.

“I am.” He says with a smile.

“Sorry about tasing you.” She says with considerably less guilt than Jane. Thor gets the distinct feeling that Darcy isn’t sorry at all. Not really.

“That’s fine! It was just a shock. I commend you for your battle skills. There was no harm done.” Thor grins. Any previous anger he felt has leached away. He still has a mission to complete but he should not take it out on these Midgardians. They don't know any better. Besides, they might be able to assist him in his quest.

“No harm done?” Jane mumbles.

“Yes, no harm. My brother Loki often enjoys stabbing me with whatever pointy object he can get his hands on. A little electric shock is nothing.” Thor chuckles. His eyes darken at the thought of Loki.

“He sounds horrible.” Jane whispers, her eyes wide.

“That’s what everyone said but they were wrong. Loki was always...different but he wasn’t the monster they made him out to be.” Thor says sadly. Was Loki out there somewhere, alone? He always was lonely…

“What happened to him?” Darcy asks softly.

“He had an argument with our father - _my_ father. I haven’t seen him since. No one has.” Thor rings his hands.

He’d been searching for years but there was still no sign of him. He knows they didn’t part on the best terms. Loki had been furious with their father. Furious enough to be dangerous. He'd let Jotun into Asgard in the hopes of starting a war across the nine realms. Thor just hopes that he is staying out of trouble for once in his life.

They all sit in silence, letting the silence wash over them. Jane closes her book fully and places it to one side, giving him her full attention.

“You said you had questions. About your bridge.” He says, clearing his throat. He has no clue about this bridge thing but if he helps them, they might give him their help. They know this realm much better than him, he’ll need guides.

“Ummmm….yeah.” Jane mumbles, looking over at Darcy. Darcy nods encouragingly, quieter than she was before, “The Einstein-Rosen bridge is like a wormhole. A phenomenon that connects two parts of space, allowing travel across space. We’ve been researching it for a while. It leaves markings like this.” Jane reaches over and hands him a picture from one of her files. He carefully takes it from her and examines the marking.

“You mean the Bifrost!” He exclaims.

“The what?” Darcy says, exchanging a look. Jane leans in closer, hooked on his every word.

“The Bifrost. It’s a way of travelling through the realms like you said. It’s how I got here from Asgard.” He grins. If these people know about the Bifrost they must be intelligent. Scientists. They will most certainly be of help in his search of the Tesseract.

“He’s completely bonkers.” Darcy groans. Jane holds her hand up to silence Darcy, “You can’t seriously be believing this!” Darcy exclaims. Jane shrugs slightly, her cheeks flushed.

“What can you tell us about the Bifrost?” Jane asks, moving to sit beside him.

“Much! I can even show you how it works but I need your help first.”

“What with?” Jane furrows her brow, hesitant.

“I lost something, as I came down to Midgard. A hammer: Mjolnir.” He explains slowly.

“Myeuh myeuh?” Darcy raises her eyebrows.

“Mjolnir.” Thor attempts to correct her.

“Myeuh myeuh.” Darcy parrots.

“Why do you think we would know where...myuolner - whatever - is?” Jane interrupts. Probably for the best. If someone didnt stop them Thor and Darcy could’ve gone on like that for hours.

“You were researching the Bifrost -”

“Einstein-Rosen bridge.” Jane interrupts.

“Yes, whatever, you were researching the bridge when I came down to earth. I got separated from Mjolnir as I fell so you should be able track it. You have all the data from that night. If anyone knows where Mjolnir is it's you three.” Thor explains.

If he can just get Mjolnir back everything will work out.

“So you just want us to find your Myeuh-myueh hammer and then you’ll tell us everything you know?” Darcy asks, dragging her words out into a drawl.

“I swear it upon the nine realms.” Thor says sincerely.

“We’ll do what we can. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you Lady Jane. I am truly grateful for your assistance.” Thor

_Soon_. He will continue on his mission soon.

But for now, he’ll just watch the stars.

~~~

_08/02/2016, 22:08_

“Go fish.” Clint grumbles. His deck of cards are fanned out revealing his less than perfect hand. How does Coulson always win?

“Coffee?” Coulson asks, setting his cards down on the table.

“God yes.” Clint sighs. He sets his cards next to Coulson's. Their game is already forgotten in favour of the promise of coffee.

Coulson pads through their little camper van to the kitchen. When Clint says little he really means big. Really big. For a secret government organisation, S.H.I.E.L.D really knows how to splash their cash on not particularly secretive modes of transportation.

Lola (Coulson’s car) is parked out in front of the caravan. She stands out like a sore thumb against the desert scenery surrounding them. She’s the cleanest thing for miles. Bright and shining with her polished red surface. Coulson clearly takes more care of her than most things. Another prime example of S.H.I.E.L.D’s inability to be secretive about anything. Sure, this might be Coulson’s car but S.H.I.E.L.D still let him drive it here.

As soon as the coffee arrives Clint clings to it. He wraps his hands around the pleasantly hot thermos container. He doesn’t even bother waiting for it to cool, he just downs it boiling hot. His throat and mouth protest but he can’t be bothered. He’s tired of waiting. It feels like all he’s done this last week is wait and play cards. Coulson did say it wouldn’t be a big combat mission but he had been hoping for something a bit more interesting.

Clint hadn’t attended S.H.I.E.L.D academy for long but he had been there long enough to leave 0-8-4’s were a big deal. _Objects of unknown origin_. In an organisation like S.H.I.E.L.D that’s not something that happens often. It happens incredibly rarely. When he’d heard that he’d though he’d get to see alien bombs or a UFO, not just a measly hammer.

A _hammer_.

The only thing that makes the hammer special is that it can’t be lifted up. It has to be a trick of some kind. Some party trick. Clint will admit he’s snuck out himself - the guards are pretty shit - and tried to lift it. It’s no good. It’s unliftable. There is no way Clint will accept any other answer.

“It’s my shift now. You stay here and try to get some rest.” Coulson says as he starts gathering his stuff. He quietly slides his gun into his holster. Clint has never seen him use it and isn’t sure if he ever wants to.

“What for? Nothing ever happens out here. This place is like the armpit of the western world.” Clint sighs, flopping down on the sofa.

“You’re meant to be recovering from your injury as well as assisting me if the need be. I might not need assisting right now but you do need to recover.” Coulson puts on his best dad voice.

Clint would’ve thought the dad voice would bring back bad memories of the real thing but it doesn’t. His real dad never did the dad voice. Well, he did the dad voice, but not Coulson’s dad voice. Clint’s dad mainly just yelled and threw stuff in place of a proper dad voice. It’s a nice change to have a parental figure actually caring about him.

“Whatever.” Clint grumbles.

“Here.” Coulson hands Clint a little walkie talkie, “Keep this beside you and if I need you I’ll radio. No matter what. I swear.” Coulson says softly.

Clint doesn’t move to pick it up. Coulson waits for a few seconds before leaving for his shift. As soon as the camper vans door has fully closed Clint jumps up. He grabs the walkie talkie and begins trudging back to his bed. If Coulson says he’ll call, he’ll call.

He flops down on the bed, still in his slightly rumpled work out clothes. The soft duvet and mattress envelop him. The coffee should be keeping him awake but it's clearly not working. Slowly, he feels himself fall deeper and deeper into sleep. This time he doesn't try to fight it.

~~~

“Barton?” The walkie talkie crackles. Immediately, Clint is up and awake.

It's much later than it was when he fell asleep. There's no clock in his room but one look out of the window is enough to tell him he's slept a while. The moon is now visible through the window, getting close to setting.

“Barton?” Coulson's voice crackles through again. Clint reaches forward and grabs the walkie talkie, pressing the button to allow him to talk to Coulson.

“I’m here.” He says into the little device.

“We need our eyes in the sky. There's an intruder making a move for the hammer.” Coulson explains. He's putting on his usual, busy commander voice. It's almost reassuring to here the usual curt orders that Coulson hasn't been able to give since they arrived in New Mexico.

“On it.” Clint throws the walkie talkie down onto the bed. He winces as it bounces off of the bed and crashes onto the floor. Instead of checking on it, he makes a bee line for the weapons cupboard. It wouldn't be a S.H.I.E.L.D camper van without a secret weapons store built into the wall.

He pressed his hand against the wall and heads the familiar hiss of the mechanism unlocking. The wall opens up to reveal a whole arsenal of guns and bullets. They're all top of the range. Best in the business. Clint's eyes flick past all of them though. Guns have never been his style. Coulson had added Clint's specially crafted bow to the rack of weapons. It glitters perfectly against the black backdrop of the weapons cupboard.

“It's go time.” He says, rubbing the edge of the bow. His quiver is already filled with normal arrows but he can't help but grab a few of the more explosive types. Bobbi might says he's theatrical but he rather call it dramatic flair.

Once he's strung the quiver I've this back, he bends down and picks up the walkie talkie. It seems fine. Hopefully. If worse comes to worse he’ll make a judgement call when he's up there.

It clips perfectly onto his belt, hooked up to a special system the techies made. It's hard go man a walkie talkie and use a bow and arrow so they made a system to allow him to press a button on his arm guards to activate the walkie talkie when he needs to talk. He's not had a chance to try it out in action yet but when better to test out the system than in the middle of a battle?

He rushes out of the door, his feet already coated in mud. It's begun raining making the usually dry ground, thick and sticky with mud. Every step he takes coats more of his foot. If it wasn't for his circus training there's no way he'd be able to run across the ground here without falling on his arse.

He vaults over the barrier of his ‘ _nest_ ’ - as Scott likes to call it. As soon as he's on the little platform he smashes his hand down on the button on the side. Once it's been pressed, the platform begins to rise, taking him up into the sky. It clicks as soon as it's reached it's maximum height, signalling for Clint to get in position.

“Hawkeye is in the nest.” Clint says into the walkie talkie. If only Bobbi and Natasha could see him now. _Hawkeye isn't a cool name my ass._

“Do you have eyes on the intruder?” Coulson asks. Despite how he's trying to cover it, Clint can hear the smile in Coulson’s voice.

Although the rain is falling thick, he can make out the intruder running through the temporary shelter S.H.I.E.L.D has set up. The thin, almost papery, plastic walls of the tunnels shows the dark silhouette of the intruder.

He's good.

Clint can see him taking down all of the agents. Clint hasn't seen anyone fight like him before. Compared to Natasha and Bobbi’s tricks and training, this guys fighting could be called honourable. No tricks. No traps. No manipulation. Just raw power. Incredible brute strength that Clint hadn't realised was possible. It's almost unfair on the S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

The guys is quite tall, maybe around six foot. He's not the tallest of all the people in that building but he's up there.

“Hello handsome.”

Clint draws his bow and clips his arrow on. As usual, the notch fits to now perfectly. Nothing beats S.H.I.E.L.D funding and design.

“Talk to me Barton.” Coulson's voice comes through.

Clint squeezes the button on his arm guard carefully. The crackling of the radio cuts out as he presses it which is a good sign.

“Do you want me to slow him down, sir? Or are you sending more guys in for him to beat up?” Clint says as the guy sends one of the agents flying through the plastic wall.

Coulson hesitates, no response coming through the walkie talkie. Clint keeps his bow fixed on the guy, ready for Coulson's call.

“I'll let you know.” Is all he says in response. Clint rolls his eyes. Typical. Something interesting happens and Clint isn't even allowed to shoot at it.

Clint watches patiently as the guy barrels through the plastic walls, bringing the biggest agent they have with him. Both of them become heavily coated in mud as they begin beating on each other. At first it looks like the agent is winning but soon the tables have turned and the intruder is ferociously knocking the agent down into the mud.

“You better call it Coulson because I’m starting to root for this guy.” Clint says, pressing down the button.

Clint never could resist an underdog but died this guy really count as the underdog in this fight. Whatever training he's received has made him incredibly dangerous. He's one guy Clint wouldn't want to get into a close quarters fight with.

The intruder kicks the agent down into the mud, kicking his face multiple times. That's going to be sore in the morning.

“Last chance, sir.” Clint clenches his bow. Soon this guy will be done with the agent and will leave his line of sight making it trickier to shoot him down.

“No, wait! I want to see this.” Coulson says. Clint sighs. Of course. He lowers his bow slowly. He tucks the arrow back into his quiver and watches the intruder closely.

The intruder slowly approaches the hammer in the center of the plastic walled tunnels. Blue sparks start flying off of the hammer as the guy gets closer.

Clint holds his breath, waiting for something to happen. They've been watching the hammer for bloody ages. It would be great to know what it does. What it's purpose is.

The intruder wraps his hands around the handle, preparing to lift it. There's no way he can lift that thing…right? It's immovable. They tried everything to lift it.

Nevertheless, the guy begins pulling on the handle, trying to lift it up. There's such confidence and determination on his face that for a second Clint thinks he's going to be able to lift it. It's like he's lifted it a million times before.

But it stays still. Holding fast.

He can't lift it.

Clint was right - immovable.

The guy keeps trying to lift the hammer up as the agents begin closing in on him. He refuses go let go of the handle, convinced that with just a bit more effort he’ll be able to lift it.

When he finally accepts that he can't lift the thing he falls to the ground, screaming. The sound cuts through the night. Pure desperation flooding through the still, wet air.

Clint presses the button to lower the platform. He slowly returns to the ground and vaults back over the side of the platform.

His feet squelch as he pads over to Coulson and the intruder. His arrows clack together rhythmically, distracting him from the intruders heart broken scream.

There's an overwhelming smell of blood and mud everywhere, even inside the temporary building. Agents are knocked out and strewn throughout the place. He really did a number on them.

Agents are now holding the guys arms behind his back - keeping him still and steady. There's not much point to be honest. If this guy wanted to run away he would've done it. A couple of people holding his arms isn't going to stop him leaving. Instead the guy stays still, letting the agents do what they want.

Clint takes his place at Coulson's side. Coulson stands stock still, keeping his focus on the intruder.

Now he's closer he can see the intruder properly for the first time. He's young. Much younger than Clint had thought. If he had to guess he would say the boy was under 20.

“He’s just a kid.” Clint whispers.

“Yes. He is.” Coulson mumbles as he turns around and leaves Clint alone.

Clint trails along behind Coulson and the agents as they drag the boy along. All the fight he once had has been completely drained as he allows himself to be dragged along by the S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

“Take him to the camper van.” Coulson points to the camper van him and Clint have been staying in since arriving in New Mexico.

Clint learnt long ago not to question Coulson or whatever he says. The man usually knows what he’s doing. Usually. Clint just hopes this is one of those times.

The agents don't say anything as they lead the boy up the hill towards the camper van. The boy is in a daze for the whole time. He only becomes aware again as they enter the van. His eyes begins darting around the room but he makes doesn’t try to leave. He stays stock still. Dead weight in the agents arms.

“Take a seat.” Coulson says as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.

The agents look at one another then Coulson. Their hands are still gripping the boys arms despite what little good it will do. Clint shifts from foot to foot behind the agents. What’s Coulson’s goal here?

“I said take a seat.” Coulson repeats, his eyes fixed only on the other boy.

The boy glances at the agents holding them carefully. After a few seconds he shakes them off and steps forward towards Coulson. The agents drop their hands to their sides and back up slightly, exchanging curious looks. Coulson nods to them, waving them out of the room. They hesitate for a few seconds but eventually file out of the room one by one to stand guard outside.

The boy slowly steps forward and sits down at the table opposite Coulson. Clint doesn’t dare leave Coulson alone in the room with this punk and it doesn’t seem like Coulson is asking him to. In fact, Coulson is acting as if Clint isn’t even in the room. Leaving Clint to make the choice for himself. Clint takes a few steps back and leans against the wall next to the front door. Standing guard.

His bow is still in his hand. There might not be any arrows in it but he feels better just holding it. The pressure of Natasha’s knife cuts into his hip. There’s never a moment when he has it off his person. He’s not taking any chances anymore. He’ll never be unarmed in a fight like he was during his childhood. Never again.

“What do you want?” The boy says harshly. He’s all sharp edges and frustration. If Clint didn’t know any better he would say he’s a child who’s had their favourite toy ripped away.

“Biscuit?” Coulson pulls out a packet of biscuits from nowhere. The boy maintains his steely gaze. Not softening for anything. Not even Coulson’s biscuits and puppy dog eyes.

“Okay then. Why don’t you tell me your name?” Coulson says as he takes a biscuit for himself. Suddenly the biscuit packet is pointing towards Clint. An offering. He considers going over and taking one but instead chooses to hold his ground. He can’t let down his guard. Not yet.

“Why should I tell you anything.” The boy chuckles but theirs no light their. A mockery of a true laugh.

“Because you just broke into a high security government facility and you must be, what? Eighteen?” Coulson says, sitting up straight and setting his biscuit down to one side.

“Eighteen? Don’t mock me. You know nothing of me or my age.” The boy chuckles again. Some of that ferocity he had seen while the boy fought rises to the surface again. Rearing its ugly head.

“...And because we could help you.” Coulson's words cut through the boys laughter. He’s suddenly gotten the boys attention. Finally.

“What do you have to offer me.” The boy ponders.

“As I said before. We’re a government cooperation. We have access to technology and information you couldn’t find anywhere else. You seem like a boy on a mission. You could use some powerful allies.”

“Fine. I’m listening. What do you want from me?” The boy leans back in his chair. Light is slowly returning to his eyes. _Fast bounce back_ Clint thinks.

“Why don’t we start with your name?” Coulson picks up his biscuit again.

“Thor Odinson.” Thor states, still casually leaning back.

“What is that hammer?” Coulson asks, remaining as relaxed and stoic as ever. Completely calm and in control. Clint hopes to one day be able to control himself that way.

“You humans and your questions. You have such fascination with these things.” Thor’s voice rumbles. Clint could punch him in his dumb perfect face. He’s one of the worst kinds of person. The kind that thinks themselves better than everyone else. The kind of person that steps on you like you’re nothing.

“Why did you want it?” Coulson repeats.

“It’s a weapon. One of the most powerful in the Universe. It’s forged from a metal produced in the heart of a dying star. Only one who is worthy can wield such a thing.” Thor says with unbridled pride.

“Bullshit.” Clint mumbles. Thor turns around to glare at him. There’s a kind of tough, ferocious exterior to the guy that is uncommon in humans. It’s not hatred or spite. It’s nowhere near as personal as any of that.

“You don’t believe me?” Thor almost sounds hurt. Defensive.

“The heart of a dying star? Worthiness? It sounds like a whole load of rubbish to me.” Clint scoffs. He lowers his bow and leans back against the wall.

“You humans will never understand such things.” Thor grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Why couldn’t you lift it then? Are you not worthy?” Coulson asks, trying to draw Thor’s attention away from Clint.

“I fear not. My father sent me here on a mission to prove myself. I suppose this is how I am to tell when I have passed.” Thor looks down at the table.

“To prove yourself?” Coulson probes gently.

“Recent events on Asgard have left to my father questioning me. There was an incident with my brother. Some...secrets came out and my brother almost caused irreparable damage to the nine realms by trying to start a war amongst the galaxy. He hasn’t been seen for a long time now.” Thor says wearily.

Clint opens his mouth to call the guy out on his bullshit when Coulson holds a finger out to silence him. Clint gapes for a few seconds, searching for the words, but he eventually just closes his mouth. Coulson is his commanding officer before all else.

“What was your mission then?”

“To retrieve the object you call the Tesseract. Things have been changing in the realms. Dangerous things are awakening. The Allfather believes someone has begun hunting down the infinity stones - dangerous gems that have unforetold power. He has traced the whereabouts of as many of these stones as he can and located one here on earth. I have been sent here to bring it to Asgard where it can be properly protected.” Thor says with sombre pride. It’s a wild emotional roller-coaster with this guy.

“The Tesseract…” Coulson mumbles, “We actually have a lead on that.” Thor perks up instantly. He stand sup and hits his hand against the table with enthusiasm.

“You do?! Where!” He demands passionately.

“We don’t have it’s exact location but with the help of one of our scientists and a device our team recovered from Russia a few weeks ago we should be able to find it.” The device? Is that the thing their team found in that sealed vault? The thing Scott grabbed?

“This is brilliant news!” Thor bellows with a hearty laugh, “With this I can prove my worth to the Allfather, recover Mjolnir and retake my rightful place upon the throne of Asgard!”

“Throne…?” Clint mutters to himself. When was a throne involved? This guy is going to be a king?

“How long will this take?” Thor demands. He’s more like an energetic - slightly dangerous - puppy than anything. It’s almost unsettling.

“It’s hard to be sure. You could come back to our facilities with us. We could use your help on some issues in exchange for the Tesseract.” Coulson offers. As usual, he is completely unaffected by Thor’s sudden transformation into an overgrown puppy.

“I’m afraid I’m needed here for the time being. I owe some friends some help with their research. I vow to help you in exchange for the help you are offering but I will be unable to give that help just yet.” Thor says honestly.

“I’m sure we can work with that. We will send someone to find you when we have located it.” Coulson explains calmly and thoughtfully.

“How will you find me?” Thor’s brow is furrowed.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find you.” S.H.I.E.L.D always had had a way of finding people. Clint isn’t sure if he wants to know how they do it.

“I’ll take that biscuit now.” Thor grins. Without hesitation, Coulson hands him the packet of biscuits. With his hope and optimism now reinstated, Thor wastes no time hoovering down all of the biscuits. It almost reminds him of Bobbi after a long training session or mission.

“On behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D, we look forward to working with you Mr. Odinson.” Coulson holds his hand out to Thor. For a few seconds they just sit like that, with Thor carefully examining Coulson’s outstretched hand. Slowly, he reaches out and clasps Coulson’s hand with his own, giving it a hearty shake.

“I look forward to our time together too!” Thor beams.

Clint can’t help but think this is the beginning of a fruitful partnership or a world ending disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having to ignore what happened with the Tesseract in Captain Marvel because it doesn't really fit in with my plan for the story. I'll just have to find some other way for Carol to get her abilities when I get to that bit. I've got a while to figure that out though
> 
> I'm sorry if Thor seems a bit like a dick a points in this chapter - that will change. I kinda scrapped most of the first Thor film but he still needs that character growth he got in that film so it's going to happen over this part of the story.
> 
> Would you like some Loki PoV's in this part before he is sent to earth by Thanos? I wasn't originally going to show his point of view until the events of the Avengers but it could be interesting to see his views when he's held captive by Thanos. Is that something you would like to see?


	18. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission is sent out to the arctic to recover a missing WW2 relic everyone had believed to be long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this is a day late. I've had such a busy weekend so I didn't have the chapter finished yesterday

09/02/2016, 02:36

“What are you doing?” Clint hisses once Thor has left the room.

“What do you mean: what am I doing?” Coulson feigns innocence. He’s pottering around the camper van, gathering up the few possessions they have scattered around the place.

“Thor! You let him go!” Clint steps in Coulson's path, grabbing his attention. Coulson sighs deeply, composing himself before he has to deal with Clint.

“He’s a potential asset. Clearly he has information that could be beneficial to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Coulson’s voice remains steady as he pushes past Clint.

He's once again bustling around the place and gently placing what little they have into Coulson’s briefcase. Most of it is Coulson’s, unsurprisingly. Antiques, memorabilia, playing cards and the like. From what Clint can see the man never goes without some of his favourite little bits and bobs. For a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the guy has quite the collection of personal items. Clint had kind of assumed personal items weren't a thing S.H.I.E.L.D agents did.

“ _Clearly_ he's off his rocker!” Clint grumbles, “Asgard? Magic hammers? Thor and Loki? They're stories.” Clint shadows the older agent, keeping just a few steps behind.

“They're legends.” Coulson says patiently.

“So what?” Clint finally stops and watches Coulson bumbling about undisturbed.

“Stories and legends are different. For the most part, legends turn out to be less fictional than you'd like to believe.” Coulson picks up Clint clothes bag from the bed and presses it into Clint's arms. By now Clint has realised there's no point in questioning him when he has his mind set on something like he has now.

“You're telling me you think this is the centuries old Norse god Thor? He looks like a freakin' eighteen year old.” Clint transfers the bag from his arms to his hands so it swings steadily at his side.

“He’s a Norse god. Who's to say how old he is?” Coulson shrugs.

He picks up his own clothes bag before giving the room a one last look over. It’s strangely empty without all of Coulson’s clutter. In reality it’s hardly any emptier but it just feels...blank. Like an empty photo frame. Not quite right. Not finished. 

Without wasting another second Coulson saunters over to the door of the camper van and steps over the threshold. Clint follows closely behind Coulson. Cold air knocks into him as soon as he's out in the open. It's still raining heavily, the water sticking to his hair and dripping down his face uncomfortably. He tries to shake his hair dry but there's not much point. As soon as he's ridded himself of the loose water more takes its place. 

Slowly they stroll over to Coulson’s little red car - Lola. In the dark and rain it looks more grey than red. Luckily Coulson had the foresight to raise the roof before the rain started. No one's even allowed to _touch_ Lola, Clint would hate to see what would happen if Lola was drowned in the rain.

“I can’t believe we’re actually having this conversation…” Clint mutters to himself, “Wait...where are we going?” Clint asks warily. This is the worst possible time for them to be leaving the area unguarded. Someone literally just broke in and tried to steal the magic hammer of truth or whatever it is. Anyone could try and bust in while him and Coulson are gone.

“We’re going back to the academy to report the recent developments to Fury.” Coulson states as he throws his bag into Lola's boot. He walks up to the front door and slides into the car, promptly closing the door behind him. He presses a button on the steering wheel and watches as the passenger window winds down so him and Clint can talk.

“We could just call him you know! This is the 21st century - we don’t need to send ravens or whatever they did when you were growing up.” Clint refuses to get into the car with Coulson. They’re on a mission. Sure, it might not be a particularly eventful or even useful mission but it's something and Clint is so damn sick of nothing.

“We have preparations to make. We have to talk to Banner about tracking down the Tesseract and sort out a team to go and retrieve it.” Coulson sighs. He presses another little button on the steering wheel of the car and the passenger door swings open. Clint has to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the rogue door.

“Wait, you can’t be serious about helping this weirdo?”

“Why not?” Coulson finally turns and looks at Clint properly. Giving Clint his full attention.

“He’s completely wacko and he just broke into your super high security spy base and took down all of our agents.” Clint drops his bag on the floor so he can cross his arms. It splashes into a puddle on the ground. Mud splatters up his leg, ruining his one good pair of trousers. If his leg is this bad he'd hate to see what state his bag is in.

“Over half your team of avengers has some kind of criminal record - it seems we’re in the business of giving kids like you second chances.”

“Taking us in is one thing, giving the guy the Tesseract is another thing entirely. That thing is immensely powerful from what I’ve heard. The energy must be on par with nuclear bombs or more. We can’t just go giving it out to every whacko that comes by asking.” Coulson is grinning. If Clint didn’t know any better he would say Coulson was proud.

“Since when were you an expert on the Tesseract?” Coulson asks. He’s still wearing his dumbass grin.

“I’m not as much of an idiot as everyone thinks. I’ve seen World War 2 files, it was made pretty clear that this thing is the most dangerous thing on the planet.” Clint grumbles.

“We won’t make the decision lightly. That’s why we need to go back, so we can talk this through before making and decisions.” Coulson shifts his gaze onto the horizon ahead of them as if Clint isn’t even there. There's not much a view considering the rain and darkness but it's interesting enough to keep Coulson's attention.

Sighing, Clint picks up his bag and throws it into the car beside his feet. Defeated, he slides into the seat next to Coulson and closes the car door behind him. As soon as he’s sat down, Coulson flashes him as heartfelt smile. He reaches up and pulls down a sturdy, high grade seat belt down to strap himself in.

“You do know it’s car right…” Clint asks slowly, “I know you S.H.I.E.L.D folk are paranoid but this a step too far.”

“You'll want to put yours on.” Coulson reaches over Clint and points at an equally bulky seat belt up by Clint's head, “It's going to get a bit bumpy.” Nervously, Clint clips the other seat belt on. His stomach twists violently at the sight of Coulson fiddling with some unmarked buttons on the dashboard. There's nothing worse than being kept in the dark like this. Last time they drove in Lola they didn't need these belts. What is Coulson planning?

“What are you doing…?” Clint asks cautiously. The second the words are out of his mouth he realises it's a question he probably doesn’t want answered.

Coulson just grins knowingly as he flicks the last switch. As soon as the switch has been flicked the car begins to rumble. Inch by inch, the car begins rising up off of the ground. The vibrations running through the car keep getting stronger as they get higher and higher. Clint peers through the window and as far over the edge of the car as his straps will let him. Against all reason, the car a good 20 inches off of the ground and still rising. The wheels have rotated so they’re facing the ground and are releasing pulses of energy which are keeping the car suspended in midair.

Suddenly the car stops rising and stays still. Without the car rising, the vibrations die down until they’re nothing more than a pleasant buzz. It might even be nice if Clint wasn't waiting for whatever danger the car has in store for them both.

“Getting ready to drive.” Coulson grins mischievously.

His foot presses down on the pedal causing the car to race forward. It’s all Clint can do to stop himself from getting whiplash.

Everything rushes past him, wind thundering in his ears through the open window. It's...freeing.

He can’t help but laugh as the world races by. He’s not an agent or a soldier or a criminal. He’s a kid. A teenager. For the first time in a long time he’s able to laugh like a kid - and it feels amazing.

~~~

“Why the hell didn’t we do that on the way there?” Clint asks as they pull to a stop in front of the academy.

Despite the speed of the car, it still took them hours to get there. Longer than Clint would’ve liked. As much as he may have enjoyed the experience, after a couple a hours it gets a bit old.

“We weren’t in hurry then.” Coulson flicks the switch once again to let the car slowly lower itself back to ground level.

“We weren’t? It certainly seemed like we were in a hurry.” Clint mumbles. Coulson had dragged him away from the academy without any haste. It would’ve been nice to know that they weren’t in as much of a hurry as Coulson had made them out to be. Maybe he could've actually sat down with the others for more than ten minutes.

Coulson gets out of the car first, not waiting for Clint even for a second. After fumbling with his seat belt for a few seconds, Clint stumbles out of the car and grabs his bag. He chases after the older agent, his arms cradling the bag like a baby.

The halls are almost completely empty. If Clint remembers correctly, this would be when the hand to hand combat sessions take place. All the operations students must be down in the training halls. A few people are haunting the corridors but they’re almost completely alone.

 _I wonder where Bobbi and Nat are…_ Clint wonders as they make their way to Fury’s office. It’s odd having been away from them for so long. It’s been months since he went a week without them by his side. Perhaps it was for the best that they had some time apart.

As they appear at Fury’s office, two other people leave the office. It takes Clint a few seconds to realise it’s Wanda and Pietro. Out of bed. Not comatose. Somehow they look completely different to how they did a week ago. People can't just change in a week.

Pietro looks...alive. It’s the only way he can think to explain the change in appearance. Before he looked like a glorified corpse. He’d lost so much blood that his skin matched the white of his hair. The brotherhood hadn’t been doing him any good either to be honest. Now there was colour in his cheeks - still not much but now the paleness was natural. It was a good look on him.

Scott must’ve lent the kid his clothes, unfortunately the sizes clearly didn’t quite match up. The twins are two or so years younger than the rest of them meaning Scott's clothes swallow Pietro. He’s buried deep in a huge blue hoodie that is already two sizes too big for Scott. His jeans have been rolled up to keep them from dragging on the ground, not that they need to be. He’s being pushed around in a wheelchair so despite the length of the trousers, they still wouldn’t reach the ground - even if they weren’t rolled up.

Wanda also looks like a new person. Bobbi must’ve given her a haircut because her wild hair has been somewhat tamed. Now her hair only reaches her shoulders where it used to lick her hips. Instead of wild, unruly waves she’s got straighter, styled hair. There are still rogue waves which disrupt the still, peaceful image of her hair but now she looks slightly less like a feral child who hasn’t slept in two years. She’s been dressed up in a black which looks suspiciously like one of the dresses strung up in Natasha’s wardrobe (not that Natasha ever wore it). You’d think a place like S.H.I.E.L.D would be able to afford to buy these kids clothes of their own. Such a cheap agency. How much does an outfit or two cost them?

“Wanda? Pietro? You’re awake.” Clint stops in front of the pair awkwardly.

Coulson has already passes the twins and is in front of Fury's office. He looks back at Clint hesitantly. Should Clint be going into Fury’s office with Coulson? Before Clint can run over to join him, Coulson shakes his head. The agent slips into Fury’s office on his own, leaving Clint to talk to his...teammates? Clint can't tell where he'd rather be, having an awkward conversation with the twins or Fury.

“Oh, welcome back, Clint. Pietro woke up a day or so after you left. The doctor just gave him permission to take a trip to our rooms.” Wanda smiles. She’s radiating positivity compared to when Clint last saw her hunched over Pietro’s hospital bed. It’s an unsettling change.

“Seems like a lot has changed while I was gone.” Clint mumbles.

“I guess so. It’s been an interesting week. We've been getting to know people.” Wanda mutters, gripping the wheelchair tighter.

“You made up with Banner?” Clint asks. When Clint had left it really didn't seem like the guy was ever going to give the twins a chance. What Wanda did might've been messed up but she's trying to better herself. He should at least be willing to give the girl a chance.

“Not exactly but he’s not going to kill me anymore.” She grumbles, shifting from foot to foot. An improvement at least. It's something.

“Do you mind if I walk with you guys. Coulson doesn’t seem to need me anymore and I haven’t had any coffee yet today.” Clint grumbles.

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, the tiredness has returned. At this point he’s practically a walking zombie. It seems no matter how long he sleeps, he’s always still tired. He can’t wait to actually sleep in his bed for the first time in weeks. In reality it wont be his bed. Since Coulson grabbed him on his first day out of the recovery ward he has yet to actually sleep in his own bed.

“Sure.” Wanda says. Pietro’s only response is to nod noncommittally.

Clint hasn’t actually spoken to the boy properly since the mission. It’s hard to figure out how to react around the guy who shot you and took a bullet for you in the same day. Any other day it might be awkward but right now he doesn’t have enough energy to think about anything like that. It is what it is. He'll deal with that mess when he's awake.

They walk in silence through the halls. Only the sound of their own footsteps breaks the silence. It’s oddly comfortable actually. He supposes after spending so much time in the recovery ward he is used to the companionable silence of the punks. Something familiar amongst all the changes.

Clint steps forward and opens the flat door for Wanda, after all her hands are full with Pietro. Sure she could probably open the door with her special magic smoke but it’s the polite thing to do. She smiles awkwardly at the gesture, driving Pietro into the little living room. Clint follows after them, letting the door click behind him.

Bobbi and Natasha are the only ones in the common area as they walk in. Bobbi has flour on her face as she tries to figure out how to bake what appears to be bread but who knows what it’s supposed to be. Natasha is curled up on the sofa with a well worn book. Somethings don’t change.

“What took you so long. A weeks a while to be gone.” Natasha mumbles without looking up from her book.

“What kind of greeting is that?” Clint grumbles. He crosses his arms and turns his nose up at his red headed friend.

“Welcome back, Clint.” Bobbi drawls, humouring him.

“Wow, I feel so loved.” He hisses.

“We got used to having coffee in our coffee pot.” Natasha mumbles, still paging through her book with deft fingers.

“I see how it is.”

“Come on over here and help me with this cake.” She says, beckoning him.

“Cake? Isn’t cake mix meant to be liquid?” Clint frowns at the tough, very solid lump of dough on the counter top.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helpful?” She grumbles, throwing an apron over him.

They set to work on recovering her disaster of a cake quietly and Clint is finally back home. 

~~~

12/03/2016, 23:01

Thor was enjoying his time on Midgard - Earth. It was quite a strange place. While many things did remind him of Asgard there was so much that was completely different to the rest of the nine realms. Whatever coffee was it should be a staple of the nine realms.

He’d been staying with Jane, Darcy and Erik ever since he’d been unable to retrieve Mjolnir. The agents had said they’d tell him when they located the Tesseract but so far it had been a month and there was no word. It was beginning to worry him. Did they know where to find him? Are they trying to hide the Tesseract from him so they can steal it for themselves.

Jane places her hand on top of his curled up fist. As usual, he's taken aback by the softness of her skin. Thor had spent much of his time amongst warriors with calloused hands from wielding weapons. It's a pleasant change to meet someone with such soft hands. Of course Loki and Frigga never had calloused hands but they were magic wielders, not warriors. Thor supposes Jane is much like the magic wielders - she just wields a different kind of magic. A midgardian kind of magic. Of course she would chastise him if he tried to say that to her. 

“You need to stop overthinking things. I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D will tell you when they find any information. I’m not the biggest fan of S.H.I.E.L.D as you know but in exchange for knowledge I’m sure they’d help you.” Jane squeezes his fist gently. After a few moments she lets go of his hand a picks up her stick to prod the fire crackling in front of her.

“I know.” He mumbles, not in the least bit reassured.

Darcy and Erik were already asleep in their caravan. Despite being older, it had become clear that Erik slept more than both the girls. While Jane and Darcy would stay up late into the night, Erik was always asleep promptly by nine o’clock. Most nights ended with Jane and Thor being the last ones awake. For a human, Jane requires a surprisingly small amount of sleep. Perhaps she has just learnt how to function with less.

Despite Thor’s presence, they were still here to perform their research into Einstein-Rosen bridges (Thor still doesn’t understand why they insist on calling it such a strange convoluted name) so they kept working on that every waking moment. They’d often spend time in their makeshift lab back in the village. Every time they stopped off in one of these villages, Darcy made a point of dragging him around to see all the sights. It was strangely nice. Peaceful. There’s a kind of tranquillity to their lives that you don’t get with Asgardians.

In the nights, when the others are asleep, Thor and Jane would sit like this by their little campfire and look at the stars. It was his favourite part of earth. The best part of his day. Jane's eyes would light up as she admired the endless sky above them. Soon he began recognising the stars in the sky above him. One's he'd visited with his friends or Loki in his childhood. Whenever he recognised one he'd stop to recount the brilliant tale of the battles that took place on the planets surrounding each.

“You know, I visited that constellation before, many years ago.” Thor points up a familiar constellation. Jane shifts closer to him to get a better look at the constellation he’s pointing at.

“Really? When?” She whispers, squinting at the distant solar system.

“When I was young. Loki and I were just children. We’d run away from home to go travelling. He always used to say it was his favourite constellation.” Jane looks up at him, her eyes sparkling.

“You’ve seen so much of the world up there.” She mumbles, shuffling closer to the warmth of the fire, “I always wanted to go and see the stars up close.”

“Maybe you will. One day.” Thor suggests. He’s going to be going back to Asgard eventually - when he’s completed his mission - but who says he has to go alone. Jane would love Asgard. She’d love the realms. Why shouldn’t he be able to share it with her?

“No, I don’t think I ever will....” She sighs after a few seconds. Silence hangs heavily above them just like the sprawling sky.

“You’ve seen all the constellations right...did they ever do that?” She points at one of the stars of the constellation slowly drawing nearer to them. Every second it becomes clearer and clearer amongst the jungle of stars.

“That’s no star.” Thor mumbles as he stands up, “That’s a ship.”

After a few seconds it becomes very clear that the ship is headed straight for them. It’s travelling faster than most Midgardian - no, _human_ ships. Within the minute, it has come close enough to land. Dust and sand is frantically churned up by the huge spinning fans which are suspending the ship in the air. Gradually, the fans slow down allowing the ship to sink down to the ground and land.

Jane jumps up and stands very close to his side. She wraps herself around his arm, pressing herself closer to him. He brings up his free hand into a fighting stance ready to protect Jane if the need be. As strong willed and dangerous as she can be, there are many things left in this universe that are strong enough to take her apart with one blow.

The door to the ship hisses loudly as it lowers itself to the ground allowing the occupants to leave the ship. They file out one by one. Three of them in total. They don’t look particularly big or scary but he knows better than to judge a fighter by their appearance. There are many mighty warriors that don’t hold the usual, intimidating silhouette. It would be a disservice to assume them to be anything but dangerous.

“Stay back.” Thor says to Jane as he pries himself from her grasp. For a second she looks like she’s going to fight him over it but thinks better of it. As strong as she is, she's not a warrior. She takes a step back from him so she’s standing right beside the fire while he walks forward to meet the new arrivals.

As they get closer, he realises they’re even younger than he’d thought. Two girls and a boy. The boy is the shortest with dark hair and glasses. He's dishevelled from lack of sleep. His clothes are crumpled and frayed but that doesn't seem to bother him. He reminds Thor of Erik actually. Both have the same curious, almost lost, look in their eyes.

The girls hold themselves like warriors. The shorter of the two is hardly taller than the boy with wavy red hair cut short. There is a gun in each of her hands. She’s in a fighting stance - not letting her guard down for a second. At a second glance doesn’t appear to be an offensive stance though. Defensive if anything. She hasn’t come here with the intention of attacking him then?

The other girl has long blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. She has two batons attached to her belt. Her arms are crossed so her hands are well clear of the batons handles not that that means anything. Thor is sure she could whip them out as a moments notice if the need be.

“Thor?” The blonde girl takes a step towards him.

“Who’s asking.” Thor approaches them all slowly. He has no weapons but that doesn’t mean he’ll go down without a fight if it comes down to that.

“I’m Agent Bobbi Morse with S.H.I.E.L.D.” She explains, “We’ve sent here to take you to what we believe to be the location of the Tesseract.”

“You’ve located it then?” Thor asks, still on guard. It could be a trick.

The smaller boy steps forward to greet Thor. He’s hunched over slightly. Making himself even smaller in Thor’s shadow.

“I’ve updated a device we recovered on a mission to specifically track the energy signatures we predict would come off of the Tesseract from the data S.H.I.E.L.D has collected over the years. It’s not perfect but we believe it might’ve actually found something.” The boy explains slowly.

“What are we waiting for then?” Thor breaks out into a smile. Finally. It’s finally his moment.

“Do you want to say goodbye?” The boy mumbles, peering around Thor to see Jane stood alone by the fire. The light flickers around her casting shadows across her face. Indecision flickers across her face. Twisting her delicate features.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.” He mutters with his eyes fixed on his friend. Bobbi gives towards her before turning around and heading back to the ship with the other two in tow.

Thor walks back towards the fire, hands buried in his pockets. Jane walks over to meet him as he gets closer and closer. SHe stops before she’s in touching distance and watches him. He can tell she already knew who that was. What they were.

“S.H.I.E.L.D has located the Tesseract.” Thor clears his throat.

“So you’re leaving.” Jane dances around her question. She can’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes, instead focusing on his lips.

“I’m afraid so. I should be out there helping them retrieve it - it’s my mission after all. If I’m to prove myself I need to go with them.”

“Will you come back.” Jane forces herself to meet his eyes. Staring him down. Ripping off the band aid.

“I will.” Thor says with conviction. Even if it’s just once he will return. He swears it upon the nine realms.

Jane steps forward, closing the distance between them until there’s barely a slither of space between them. She stands on her tiptoes and places her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to her level. Before he can figure out how to react she’s putting her lips on his. Forcing them impossibly closer. The intoxicating smell of lavender and ink surrounds him. Surrounds them. Thor moves his hand to press against the small of her back, lost in the taste of her. She smiles against his lips, humming happily. The seconds appear to drag out into minutes and hours and years. Time disappearing as easily as the wind or the weather.

Eventually she lets go of him, her hand dropping down to her side. She sinks back down to her usual height, looking up at him with her doe eyes. His hand stays on her back, keeping her from backing away.

“You better.” She whispers.

Not trusting himself to speak another word, he lets go of her. Without her body close to his, the cold air of the night wraps around him again. A shiver runs up his spine but he’s not convinced it’s from the cold.

Without any more hesitation, he turns around and walks back over the S.H.I.E.L.D agents waiting for him in their plane. He can hear Jane’s footsteps as she walks back to the campfire and her friends. All other sounds have been drowned out except for the ones she makes. Those are the only ones that matter. It’s not until he’s standing in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D place that he wakes up from his daze.

“You ready to go lover boy?” The ginger girl asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” He mumbles, stepping past her into the ship.

Bobbi has changed clothes so she’s now in thick, warm clothes that cover most of her body. There’s a headset hanging loosely around her neck, swinging from side to side as she walks.

The boy has changed into warmer clothes as well. He’s been completely swallowed up by them. Buried in the masses of material. He’s already strapped himself into one of the seats, not wasting any time.

“Welcome aboard the Quinjet. We’re headed somewhere really cold, do you want some warmer clothes?” The red haired girl asks. There’s a stack of warm coats and clothes to one side.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He mutters. He’s been to much colder planets than Midgard - Earth. Whatever weather they throw at him, he’s sure he’ll withstand, “Where is everyone else?” In Thor’s experience, most of these ships normally have much larger crews. Especially considering the twenty seats lining the walls of the ship.

“It’s just us. I’m going to be piloting so you three have the choice of any seat you want.” Bobbi grins, slipping the headset properly onto her head so it covers her ears. There’s a little microphone by her mouth but she reaches over and moves it out of the way.

“Sounds like fun.” He mutters to himself.

“I’m agent Natasha Romanoff and this is our teams little scientist, Dr. Banner.” The girl, Natasha, says as she begins strapping herself down into one of the unoccupied seats far away from Banner.

“Nice to meet you both.” Thor says, clearing his throat. Is he supposed to be taking one of the seats?

“You’ll want to strap yourself in before we take flight.” Bobbi explain. She’s already taken her seat in the cockpit and is fiddling with all the buttons. Thor quickly takes a seat opposite Natasha. He reaches up and grabs the strap, clipping himself in. The straps are bulky and incredibly tonight but he supposes that’s for the best. Better too tight than too loose.

“Hold tight!” Bobbi shouts as the engines start to rumble.

Outside the window ahead of him, the ground begins to fall away. Jane and Darcy and Erik are all left behind below them. As he watches it all disappear he promises himself that he’ll be back. He’ll return for Jane and his friends before he goes back home. He will.

~~~

13/03/2016, 06:45

Natasha was running on empty. Damn Clint for drinking the last of the coffee. It has been decided, as soon as she got back from this mission she was buying her own secret stash of coffee.

She’s weighing up a gun in her hand. From what information they had the guns shouldn’t be necessary but there’s no harm in being prepared. Besides, Coulson and Fury might trust this Thor guy but Natasha isn’t going to go into a room with him without her guns. After what happened when she went to retrieve Banner she wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Do you know where it is we’re heading?” Thor asks.

He looks completely ridiculous. In her opinion he looks more like a homeless man than a Norse god - not that she knows what a Norse god should look like. To be honest she doesn’t look much better. Instead of her usual combat gear, she’s got a thermal suit on underneath a tight fitting, black hoodie. It might be warm but it's strange compared to her usual gear.

“The arctic.” Natasha states robotically. She slips her gun into the holster under her jumper. It forms an uncomfortable lump on her side but it's an uncomfortable lump she’s willing to live with.

In truth, Fury hadn’t shown her exactly where they were going. As usual, she’d only been given the bare minimum in terms of information It made sense. For an organisation like S.H.I.E.L.D sharing all the information with all the agents is dangerous. Any one person can easily become a liability. The KGB and S.H.I.E.L.D have that in common.

“The arctic?” Thor asks. He’s still looking off into the distance - presumably out of the Quinjet window.

“It’s the most north part of the planet. It’s all ice and water as far as the eyes can see.” Natasha grumbles.

“Sounds like a good place to hide something like the Tesseract.” Thor mumbles thoughtfully.

“It wasn’t exactly hidden there. A guy - Captain America - was forced to crash into the arctic with the Tesseract years ago. They tried looking for him and the Tesseract for years but no one has ever found a trace of either. At least that’s what the stories all say. Who knows how much was actually true.”

“I still don’t know why I need to be here.” Banner grumbles. He’s been completely silent for the entire Quinjet ride. He fades into the background perfectly. Natasha almost forgot he was there.

“Cheer up, Dr. Banner. We’re just travelling alone to the edge of the arctic to fish a magical cube out of the ice without any backup. There’s nothing to worry about.” Natasha mutters.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about. It’s always like this with S.H.I.E.L.D, always cold and dangerous and always without backup.” Banner huffs. He’s gripping onto the straps of his seat tightly. Every bump of turbulence makes him winces. As usual he’s gritting his teeth - trying to keep a hold of himself and his alter ego. Dentists must hate him so much.

“This is top secret. People have been searching for the remains of the Valkyrie for years. If your devices does in fact work we can’t have anyone getting a hold of the location.” Natasha explains. Fury has faith in the four of them. She won’t let him down.

“This shall be a mighty quest! I am glad I get to experience such an adventure with you both.” Thor exclaims. Just watching his optimism is tiring.

“Adventure?” Banner scoffs, “Sounds more like a wild goose chase to me.” Banners eyes close as he starts taking deep, controlled breaths in and out.

“Have faith, Banner. You magical device will do its job I’m sure. We will find the Tesseract and I will be able to prove my worthiness to the Allfather.”

“We’ll see.” Banner mumbles.

“We’ll be finding out sooner rather than later. We’ve begun the descent.” Natasha points out.

Outside the window opposite her she can see the edges of the glaciers start to form. They’ve gone beneath the clouds now and are circling their landing spot. Even if they didn’t have a window you’d be able to tell they were descending though. The whole quinjet dips and her stomach is left several feet above her body. She squirms at the feeling, unused to the odd sensation. Landing maneuvers are always so uncomfortable.

Before things can become too uncomfortable, there’s a harsh thud as the quinjet drops down onto the glacier below. Natasha’s head snaps forward painfully at the motion. Bobbi might be a good pilot but her landings are damn shoddy. When Natasha is finally given permission to fly the quinjets she’s going to teach her how to do a gentle landing.

“How are you all doing back here?” Bobbi asks jovially. Her head is sticking around the doorway to the cockpit. Her head set is still on but she clearly isn’t listening to whoever is on the other end.

“Ughhh...I’d be better if you learnt how to properly land the quinjet.” Natasha grumbles as she unclips herself. Her head is still ringing slightly but it shouldn’t be enough to hinder her in any way.

“Stop complaining, I got us here didn’t I?” Bobbi grumbles.

There’s a bag in each of Bobbi’s hands. One of them is Banner’s - filled with whatever tech brought us here - and the other is filled with the tools Fury had given them to complete their mission. Without a second’s hesitation, Bobbi launches Banners bag straight at the boy. Caught off guard, he stumbles back, almost missing the bag entirely. As usual, his eye dart down to the ground and he bites his tongue.

“Let us get going then!” Thor exclaims. Bobbi nods in response and begins leading the charge out into the wider world.

Thor follows closely behind her. As he passes Banner he slaps him on the back with more force than he probably should. Banner recedes further into his shell, gripping his bag to his chest tightly. His knuckles are white and his eyes are closed as tightly as possible.

While the others begin leaving the Quinjet, Banner stays stock still. Cautiously Natasha walks over to him, creeping probably a little too quietly. As soon as her hand touches his arm he jumps back like a million volts have just gone through him. His eyes are open in a flash, darting around the quinjet feverishly before fixing on Natasha.

“Banner...it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She takes her hand off of him like she’s touching hot coals. He relaxes slightly once her hand is off of him but he’s still wound tightly.

“It’s fine. Despite everything I startle easily.” Banner mutters with a slightly blush.

“Look, Thor’s was a bit tough there. He didn’t hurt you did he?” She asks cautiously.

“Don’t worry. I can take a slap.” Banner grumbles. There’s a fire under his words. Embers burning hot. Many of the other overlook the boy but in Natasha’s opinion he’s the scariest of them all. Who knows what’ll happen if they push him too far. Sometimes Natasha wonders if Fury is undermining the danger of the Hulk or if all these missions he’s tricking Banner into are part of some grander scheme. For the boys sake, she hopes this plan won’t end with blood spilt - on either side.

“We should keep up with them.” Natasha channels her inner bossy Bobbi, “Can you carry that?” Banner might not be a soldier but by now Natasha has figured out he responds best to the commanding tone of an army officer. Living and working with someone like Ross is bound to do that to you.

“I’m fine.” Banner growls. He pushes past her, his shoulder just clipping her.

He’s surprisingly fast for someone of his height but Natasha quickly catches up with him. She overtakes him and takes her place at Bobbi’s side. Thor is behind her and Bobbi, now standing next to Banner.

“Ah! Banner!” Thor exclaims. Next to Banner, Thor looks like a literal giant. If only Bobbi and Thor would share out some of their height - anyone walking with them ends up looking like a midget.

“Are you okay?” Thor furrows his brow, turning to face Banner. In all honesty, Natasha is surprised he even noticed Banner wasn’t happy.

“I’m fine.” Banner hisses through his teeth, “Just tired.” He sighs deeply.

“Wait…” Thor stops suddenly and begins searching through his bag for something. After a few seconds he pulls out a thermos and hands it to Banner, “Here! My friend made this for me.” He grins goofily at the other boy.

Banner reaches out one hand to grab the thermos hesitantly. He unscrews the lid and peers in, the warm, comforting smell of coffee fills the crisp, icy air.

“I’m fine, really.” Banner says, re-screwing the lid and handing it back to Thor, “Coffee’s not really a good idea for me...makes me jumpy.” Banner mutters.

_Well, if he’s not going to have it._ Natasha turns around and snatches the thermos out of Banners hand. Banner doesn’t fight her off at all and lets her have her little bit of relief. She downs the entire thermos of coffee in one go, savouring the warmth down her throat. There’s a thundering chuckle as Thor watches her finish off the last of his drink. It’s refreshing to have someone not try to kill you for drinking their coffee.

“I take it you too like coffee, Lady Natasha.” He chuckles, taking the empty thermos off of her. He quickly shoves it back in his bag with his other things.

“I’d have died long ago without coffee.” Natasha grumbles, wiping her mouth with her jumper sleeve.

“Why is it not a good idea for you to be drinking coffee?” Thor turns back to Banner. Natasha is fairly certain the boy would rather be thrown into the sun than have this conversation right now.

“Because of the other guy…” Banner growls. He shifts his bag further up his arm as he shuffles alongside the rest of them.

“Banner has a unique...issue. When his heart rate gets too high he changes into a creature called the Hulk. It’s not exactly safe for anyone to be around the Hulk.” Natasha explains hesitantly. Banner still looks like he wants to vanish at that very moment but at least he didn’t have to explain it himself.

“Ah! Like a warrior! I never took you for a warrior Banner.” Thor laughs.

“Not exactly...it’s a bit more dangerous and bloody than that.” Banner scowls at the snow beneath him instead of facing the hulking Norse god beside him.

“Have faith in yourself Banner. You could save many people with such an ability, I’m sure. You’d make a fine warrior with a bit of training.” Natasha almost scoffs at that. Banner is many thing but he isn’t a soldier. He never will be.

“I’m afraid the other guy doesn’t really care about training or saving people.”

“Nothing is impossible.” Thor says with a more serious undertone. It’s probably the most serious he’s been since they met.

“I beg to differ.” Banner mumbles.

Before anyone can respond Bobbi is holding her hand up to stop them all. She’s looking around them as if she can see something they can’t.

The snow has worn away in this particular area leaving only the slippery ice ahead of them. They’d been equipped with special non-slip boots specifically for this situation but she’d rather not have to use them. Growing up in Russia meant she was trained for this but she wasn’t going to bet on Banner to be quite so well trained.

“It was around here...Banner - check your device.” Bobbi frowns and stamps her foot against the ice. A deep echo ripples out from them across the desolate plain. There’s something unsettlingly hollow about the emptiness.

Banner begins fumbling with his bag until he’s got his device in his hands. It still mostly looks like the device Scott had retrieved from Russia but some other part had been added on to specialise it for their purposes.

It beeps quietly as Banner fiddles with the buttons and dials. Small lights on the display flicker with every button he presses signalling something. Natasha might not know what any of it means but Banner clearly does.

“It’s really close...just a bit further this way.” Banner mumbles mostly to himself. He pulls ahead of Bobbi and takes lead of the situation. The change from thick snow to ice has no effect on him at all. It’s as if they were both the same surface. Natasha almost feels bad for underestimating the boy.

“Let’s follow him then.” Natasha mutters as she takes her first step onto the ice. The others follow close behind her, forming a little line. Thor takes up the rear, allowing Bobbi to go behind Natasha.

“You understand the plan right? No waiting around. We can’t afford any delays.” Bobbi whispers into her ear.

“I understand.” Natasha grits her teeth.

“Let’s hope it all goes to plan then.” Bobbi steps back and sighs loudly, shivering ever so slightly. She pulls her coat around herself tightly, burying her face in the material of the hood. Natasha almost feels tempted to do the same.

“Here.” Banner stops suddenly, almost making Natasha bump right into him. He doesn’t flinch or even move despite how close a call it was. Lost in his own world again.

Bobbi rushes to the spot where Bruce is stands and throws her bag onto the ice. It thuds heavily and sends a gentle vibration out across the plain. She gets down on her knees and starts rummaging through their stuff. Bits and bobs come flying out of the bag and are just abandoned in her mad search.

“Ah, here we go.” Bobbi exclaims when the bag is almost empty. _They should’ve packed the bag better_ Natasha grumbles to herself.

Bobbi stands up once again with her little gun shaped object in hand. She points the barrel at the ice by Banners feet and begins fiddling with the dials next to the trigger. She lines everything up and places her finger on the trigger before turning around to them all again.

“You might want to take a couple of steps back.” She says, mostly aimed at Banner who is right next to her line of fire. He doesn’t waste a second scampering out of her way to go stand to one side on his own.

Once the area is clear, she pulls the trigger and keeps her finger holding it. Red light sparks out of the guns barrel directly onto the ice underfoot. Everywhere the light touches, the ice begins to melt. She carefully moves the light around in a circle to make a ring of melted ice.

In the end it takes almost ten minutes to break through the ice to whatever is beneath. The ice here is thicker than they’d thought. It must’ve been building up here for years. Decades even. Even S.H.I.E.L.D’s laser barely got in through the thick ice.

“I guess this explains why no one’s found it in decades.” Natasha mutters to herself.

There hole goes so deep into the ice that they can’t actually see to the bottom. It’s nothing more than a empty black void. If Banner’s calculations are wrong then this hole could go straight down to stone or freezing water and they’d have no idea. God she’s starting to hate this plan.

“Who wants to go down first?” Bobbi asks, looking down into the void.

“I guess that’ll be me.” Natasha sighs as she takes a step closer to the edge.

“You’ll need these then.” Banner bends down and picks up a long length of thick rope from the floor where Bobbi emptied her bag. There’s a harness at one end of the rope all ready for her.

“Let’s get this over with.” She sighs. She grabs the rope and harness from Banner and begins steps into them, tightening the straps as tight as possible.

Banner takes the other end of the rope and fixes a strong hook onto the other end. Who’s idea was this again? He fixes the hook into the ice near to the edge of the void. This ice better be sturdier than it looks because if it melts away while she’s down there then she’s toast.

“You ready?” Bobbi asks as she checks over the harness.

“As I’ll ever be.” Natasha takes a deep breath.

“There’s a radio for you. It should work down there but in case it doesn’t, tug the rope once to be pulled up and twice if it’s safe for us to come down too.” Banner presses a radio into her hands.

“See you down there then.” She sighs, moving to the edge of the hole.

Slowly she lowers herself down until she’s fully in the hole and able to abseil down the wall. Her shoes scramble for purchase against the still weak ice. Although any of the melted ice has now been frozen again, it's still weaker than she would like. The gripping spikes of her shoes cut into the fresh ice easily compared to the usual thick ice that surrounds the area.

Cold presses in on her from all sides. On the surface it was cold too but this is different. Instead of the crisp, fresh cold of the arctic breeze, she’s left with heavy bone chilling cold as the ice surrounds her. The air in her lungs feels frozen and every drop of liquid has become solid.

She keeps moving, praying that the slight movement as she abseils will be enough to keep her warm until she reaches the bottom. Her muscles are stiffening but it’s nothing she can’t deal with and work around.

I _t could be worse. It_ has _been worse. She can cope with this. It’s just a bit of cold._

She’s so zoned out, she doesn’t realise she’s reached the bottom of the hole until her legs hit against a hard surface. Pain ripples up her body - amplified by her bone deep cold.

“Fuck.” She hisses through gritted teeth. She drops down onto the surface below, hearing the familiar drum of metal below her.

It’s not actually as deep as she thought. It’s still deep but most of the darkness seemed to be coming from whatever this metal thing is beneath her. It is sucking all the light out from the bottom of their hole.

_The Valkyrie?_

She reaches down to her hip and grabs the radio from her belt. Her fingers are too numb to properly find the buttons, especially in the low light. They should’ve thought this through before throwing her down here.

“Guys?” She says into the radio, crossing her fingers for a response.

“Natasha? You down?” Bobbi’s voice crackles through the radio.

“Yeah...it’s not as deep as we thought. There’s a big sheet of black metal at the bottom.” Natasha stamps on the metal causing it to ring out again for effect.

“Is it the Valkyrie?” Bobbi asks optimistically.

“Can’t tell from here. Chuck down your laser pen, I’ll need to cut the metal open to get in.” Natasha says.

“Okay, give me a second.” The radio goes silent.

Natasha is left standing there, feeling her butt get colder and colder. Could this not be any quicker? From down in the pit it’s hard to tell how long it actually took but to Natasha it felt like a good ten minutes until she got any sign from them. A small little package floats down from above her, neatly tied up with a mini parachute. It lands directly in her hands, the cold metal doing nothing for her already freezing hands.

She rips off the parachute material and takes aim with the gun. The laser light is pleasantly warm, even when she’s not directly in front of it.

After a few seconds the metal underfoot begins glowing and a small incision line becomes visible on the surface of the metal. She works patiently and carefully, moving the laser around to cut a man sized hole in the sheet. Quickly the entire hole is sweaty and hot, despite the tonnes of ice surrounding them. She works quicker and quicker, worried that the ice will begin to collapse around her.

Slowly the metal starts to give way until the last piece has been cut and it flatters down into the space below. Now Natasha is suspended in midair above the interior of what does indeed appear to be a plane. She’s not too far off of the ground in fact. She reaches down to her harness and unclips herself from the rope. Her feet hit the metal ground below.

It's much darker than she’d expected - almost complete darkness. There's a dull, unsettling clanging sound rippling through the machine as it settles. This is the first time it's been disturbed in decades. It's all to be expected…

Against her better judgement, she unzips her coat and pulls out her gun. She quickly rezips her coat and turns on the flashlight attached to the end of the gun. A small tunnel of light is carved out of the the dark but it doesn't reveal much. Metal and wires surround her. Pressing in.

She reaches down and grabs her radio again.

“I'm in.” She whispers into the radio. It doesn't feel quite right to talk aloud in a place like this.

“Okay, we’re bringing the rope up now.” Bobbi says.

“You’ll want to bring lots of lights. It too dark to see anything here.”

“Will do. You okay down there?”

“Yeah, there's a flashlight on the end of. One of my guns.”

“Okay see you soon then.” Then the crackle of the radio is cut off and she's left in silence again.

“Let's see what we have here then.” Natasha mutters to herself.

Cautiously, she creeps through the darkness. Her footsteps echo loudly through the empty corridors and refuse to be any quieter. The metal walls seem to resonate with her footsteps - the sounds getting louder and louder.

As she moves further and further down the corridor she begins to notice it getting lighter. Slowly but surely, the darkness is fading away and being replaced by a bright blue light that fills the room.

Natasha speeds up, running towards the source of the blue light. No human power source could keep a light running for that long. If this is in fact the Valkyrie then any light should've burnt out years ago. Which means…

Sure enough, amongst all the rubble and metal, there's a blindingly bright blue light shimmering. Natasha switches off the flashlight and steps forwards towards the rubble. Carefully, she pulls apart the pile of rubble piece by piece. Eventually her fingers come I to contact with a perfectly smooth, undamaged surface amongst all the rough edges. She gently pulls out a completely unscathed blue cube from the mess, holding it in her hands as carefully as you would a child.

The Tesseract.

The bright blue light fills the room completely, illuminating everything. Maybe it was just because her eyes had gotten used to the darkness, but it was too bright to look at properly. Compared to everything else down here, it was pleasantly warm to the touch.

A sudden crash alerts her to the others arrival. She quickly reaches into her bag and grabs a small black bag from inside. She begins shoving the Tesseract into the bag, blocking out it's light with the thick material. Once there's no sign of it's old light, she slips it into her bag and quickly seals it.

She stands up and pulls out her gun again, turning on the flashlight to show her the way. She should go back to the others before they all get lost in this place.

Now she knows the route, she lets herself run the whole way. All the way she keeps the flashlight trained on the floor so she doesn't trip on any rogue wires or rubble strewn about the place. For a plane that crashed in the ice decades ago, it's holding up pretty well to be honest.

She stops in her tracks as someone drops down from the ceiling in front of her. Thor is stood in front of her, still buried in layers. There’s no one else around despite her hearing someone else land before Thor.

“Bobbi is going to wait at the top to lift up out when we’re done.” Thor explains as he searches the darkness, “Where’s Banner?”

“He must’ve gone looking for me.” Natasha mutters. Of course Banner had to go and get himself lost. She hopes he at least had a flashlight with him.

“Where were you?” Thor tugs hard on the rope. The rope is quickly reeled up by Bobbi.

“I decided to go search for the Tesseract.”

“Did you find it?” Thor grabs her arm. He’s gentler than normal but it’s still uncomfortably tight for his liking.

“No, not yet.” Thor’s eyes darken slightly. He lets go of her arm and stands up straight. He puffs his chest out and tries to stand proudly but it’s a weak replica of his usual stance, “We’ll find it, Thor.” Natasha places her hand on his arm. He smiles up down at her but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The Tesseract suddenly feels like a heavy weight in her bag. It’s a weight she’ll bare. This is for S.H.I.E.L.D, it's nothing personal.

“Guys…” Banners voice echos from somewhere in the distance. Maybe not lost then. Just exploring. Searching.

“What is it?” Natasha shouts out in the direction Banners voice came from.

“You need to come see.” He shouts back, his voice slightly quieter than before.

Thor and Natasha take off towards Banner, running as fast as they can. Their feet pound on the ground with every step. Their own footsteps drown out every other sound. If Banner tries to speak again they don’t hear it.

The room suddenly opens out into the front of the plane. There’s a huge window covering the front of the plane but the view outside is blocked by the thick ice encasing the plane. Ice has spread inside the plane. Infecting. Infiltrating. Integrating. So far, this is the coldest part of the plane by far.

“What is it?” Natasha asks. There doesn’t seem to be much of interest. All that can be seen is ice, ice and more ice.

“There.” Banner points to the ice beside the front window.

Sure enough, frozen in the ice is something unlike everything else in the ship. Bright colours are visible through the perfectly clear ice. Perfectly preserved. Protected. Shielded.

Because under the ice is a shield.

A red white and blue shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endgame tickets have been booked! Can't wait till the 25th!!
> 
> The Capsicle is finally surfacing after 18 chapters (took a while). So close to having the whole team together now just everyone's favourite Philanthropist left out of the rooster now.


	19. Defrosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers team defrost Captain America and prepares for the onslaught that is bound to follow

13/03/2016, 12:03

Natasha stands outside Fury’s office patiently. Although there is a bench outside the office, she leans against the wall next to his door. He said he’d be with her soon but it’s been almost thirty minutes since and there’s still no sign of movement inside the office.

As soon as they’d touched down on the academy grounds she came here. Fury had specifically tasked Bobbi and Bruce with helping the S.H.I.E.L.D agents defrost Captain America leaving Natasha free to come up to Fury’s office undisturbed. She hadn’t even had time to change out of her gear before coming straight here. She’s slowly sweating out every last drop of moisture in her body. The mistresses had taught her how to handle the cold but not the heat which she is only now realising was a massive oversight. 

Her bag is at her side, resting against the wall just like her. Even placing it on the floor feels like playing with fire. Logically she knows it’s stable enough to be thrown about a bit but she’d really rather not be sat out here with the equivalent of a nuclear bomb at her feet.

“Agent Romanoff.” The door to Fury’s office opens and Coulson steps out. He smiles briefly before moving on, leaving the door open for her. 

Fury is still sat behind his desk, looking out the huge windows behind his desk at the academy beneath him. As usual, he doesn’t acknowledge her entrance, preferring to pretend she doesn’t exist until he’s ready to face reality. Natasha stands stiffly and silently in front of his desk. It’s a routine she knows all too well at this point.

“Take a seat Agent Romanoff.” Fury growls with his back still turned to her. She silently shuffles over to the chair in front of his desk and mimics waits for his next order.

“Was the mission a success?” Fury asks quietly. 

“It was. I secured the package without anyone seeing.” Her hand drifts down towards the bag with the Tesseract. She had felt kind of bad about lying to Thor but it was for the greater good. In the end, S.H.I.E.L.D was a safer place to keep a weapon of it’s calibre. There was no way to tell this Thor guy was the real deal anyway.

“And Thor?”

“I’ll talk to him. I’m certain he’ll still help us though. As requested he knows nothing of the situation. Bobbi made sure to send me in first so I could secure it without him seeing.” Natasha explains. 

“See to it that he does. If he is who he says he is then he could prove useful to S.H.I.E.L.D and the avengers initiative.” 

“I won’t fail you, Sir.”

“You better not. Pass the device.” Fury finally turns his chair around to face Natasha. Cautiously, she pulls the black bag out of her bag and rests it carefully on the desk. It thuds heavily on the wood despite her light hand. Fury gently pulls the cube out of the black bag and places it between him and Natasha. Just like in the Valkyrie, it emanates a vibrant, bright blue light. All of Fury’s face is illuminated by the sparkling blue light. 

Fury’s ginger cat - Goose - hops up onto the desk and starts sniffing the cube. Fury tries to bat her away but she keeps coming back. Entranced. She rubs her face against the corner of the Tesseract and purrs loudly.

“What are you going to do with it Sir.” Natasha asks, pushing the boundaries slightly. Ever since Fury had begun sending her on secret solo missions he’d made it clear that Natasha wouldn’t ask questions about the missions she’d been sent on.

“I’m calling in an old college to analyse it. We’ve got lots of brilliant minds here but I think this particular case needs a specialist.” Fury mumbles. He reaches out a finger and strokes the cold, glass surface. 

“Will that be all Sir?” 

“Yes. You're free to go now.” Natasha nods and begins walking out of the room, “Wait!” He calls out just as her hand touches the door knob. 

“Was there something else?” She turns around to face the director. 

“Steve Rogers is in the process of being defrosted now. He's going to be scared and confused so we wanted to ease him back into life here. We need a few of the Avengers to try and make his transition a bit smoother. Talk him through everything.” Fury stands up and begins walking over to Natasha. 

“And you want me on the team sir?” 

“You tend to be good at these things. See who's free and go down to the labs where they're keeping the guy. Someone there should be able to debrief you on the plan.” Fury hands her one of the files from his desk marked classified. There's a stamp in the corner marking it as a level 7 file. Natasha herself is only 6 clearance. She must’ve fast tracked a few level in order to begin being of actual use. Most of the other Avengers, excluding Bobbi and Clint, were all only level 1 but she assumes that's because none of them are really SHIELD agents. They either skipped training completely or are still training like Banner. 

“Understood. I'll head down there as soon as possible.” Fury nods in acknowledgement before turning on his heel and heading back to his desk. She takes that as her cue to leave and quickly opens to door so she can slip out into the corridor. 

She knows she should probably be doing as Fury says and go down to be briefed but her mind is elsewhere. Try as she might, there's too much going on for her to concentrate properly. Without thinking, she ends up on the path to the rooftop. Normally when she needs time to think about things that's where she'll be. 

When she gets to the roof though, there's someone else already there. In the months she and Clint had been here there had never been anyone else up here. It had been their special place. A safe haven. But now someone was stood on the edge of the roof, looking out at the horizon. 

Natasha slowly walks over, being careful to avoid crunching the gravel underfoot. As she gets closer she realises it isn't any of her fellow SHIELD agents it's Thor. His hair is down and blowing freely in the wind. His arms are crossed tightly against his chest and he's braced against the wind that is pounding into him 

“Thor.” She places her hand on his forearm. He doesn't jump or flinch away, instead he slowly turns to look at her as if he's waking up from a dream. 

“Lady Natasha. What are you doing here?” He tries to smile but it only lasts for a split second before he's frowning again. 

“I often come up here when I need to think. There's normally no one here so it is a nice place to unwind.” She sits down on the edge of the roof at Thor's feet. He considers for a few seconds before joining her on the floor. 

“I apologise. I didn't realise this was your place.” He apologises sincerely but Natasha shakes her head to quieten him. 

“It's fine. You look like you need the space more than me.” She mumbles with a smile. He nods slowly and resuming his staring at the horizon. “What's on your mind?”

Thor takes a deep, shuddering breath in. His shoulders droop as he resigns himself to staring at his own lap. “I am just disappointed we did not find the Tesseract. I am unable to return home or regain my godly abilities until I have proven myself. I had been so close but I failed again. Perhaps this was for the best though. I need to be out there finding it on my own in order to prove myself to father so that is what I'll do.” He says with a newfound determination. 

“You're not staying with SHIELD?” 

“I'm afraid not. For now I must return to Lady Jane and my other friends. If I am to ever be made king then I cannot waste time here. I will uphold my end of the bargain though and will assist my SHIELD comrades in anyway possible.” Thor smiles down at Natasha reassuringly. She hadn't expected him to stay with them but it would be a shame. He would've made a great avenger. Imagine what the team could do with an actual god. 

“Well you might’ve only flown one mission with us but you will always be an honorary Avenger.” She squeezes his forearm gently - although she doubt she'd hurt him even if she tried to squeeze him hard. 

“I am glad. You seem like a worthy team. Midgard is lucky to have such a strong team of Defenders protecting it.” 

“If you ever decide to stick around we'd be more than happy to have you on the team. You'd make a great addition.” She smiles and releases his arm. 

“I'm glad to hear it. I will keep the offer in mind.” But Natasha already knows he won't leave Jane. Even from just seeing their goodbye it was clear that he wouldn't be leaving her side unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Good luck on your quest. I hope you find the Tesseract before any other interested parties.” Part of her feels guilty for lying to him but she doesn't have a choice. There's no way for SHIELD to give the guy what he wants. Not yet at least. 

“Thank you, Lady Natasha.” He smiles truly and brightly. She can see he's still disappointed but his smile is a good sign…right? 

Natasha gets up off of the ground and brushes off the gravel from her clothes. She offers Thor one last look before she begins walking off to complete her next mission.

~~~

13/03/2016, 12:45

“Is that…” Scott asks

“Yeah.” Bobbi nods slowly. In all honesty she hasn’t quite figured it out herself.

“And he…”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.” Scott whispers under his breath.

Steve Rogers recently defrosted body is lying on the metal table in front of them. There’s still s few hints of frost clinging to his perfectly blonde hair. If Bobbi hadn’t helped carry the guy completely frozen out of the Valkyrie she would think he was just sleeping. Technically he is just sleeping by some miracle.

Although she never talks about it, she’d spent years at S.H.I.E.L.D studying the super soldier serum. She’d helped construct the very serum she’d ended up being injected with. In all her research she’d never expected this though. Howard Stark may have spent all those years searching for Rogers but even he had never expected to find the guy alive. The serum was never meant to be that powerful. She doubts even Dr. Erskine planned for it to keep good old Captain America alive under tonnes of ice for seventy years.

“I’ve had food that’s gone off in the freezer and this guys still as hot and perfect as ever after spending seventy years under the ice.” Scott mumbles, lightly stroking Steves arm.

“What do you do to your food?” Bruce hisses. Scott shrugs nonchalantly and backs away from the freshly defrosted supersoldier.

“God I hope I look like that when I’m seventy.” Bobbi mutters under her breath.

“Good luck with that.”

“You never know - maybe this is one of the side effects of the super serum.”

“You want us to submerge you in ice for seventy years to test it out?” Bruce asks. 

“I’m good. I’m sure I’ll look hot at seventy with or without the plane and the ice.” She smirks.

“Sure you will.” Natasha mutters as she strolls into the room. As usual, Bobbi hadn't even heard her enter the room. They needed to stick some bells on her. 

“What brings you down here?” Bobbi asks as she walks over to her friends side. 

“Fury sent me here for a briefing for a new mission.” Natasha explains, her eyes fixed on Steve Rogers. She slowly walks over to the newly defrosted body and examines it much like Bobbi had. 

“Always a new mission.” Bruce hisses under his breath. He conveniently loses himself in whatever is happening on his tablet screen as he blocks out Natasha and her latest mission statement. 

“Fury needs a team of us to reintroduce Rogers into society, do any of you happen to be free?”

“Sure, sounds awesome! I still can't believe this is the actual Captain America. I was such a huge fan growing up.” Scott chirps. 

“Bob?” Natasha rounds on her friend. 

“Sorry, I've kinda got my own work to do. I'll help out here I can but I'm pretty busy.” Until the Tesseract can be collected to be studied properly, they needed a team of people to keep any eye on it. To make sure nothing happened to it (or maybe to make sure it didn't do anything).

“Banner?” The scientist practically jumps out of his skin being called out.

“Uh, no. No way. I'm way too busy. It's almost exam season and I've got a million different projects to work on. You might all be expert SHIELD agents or whatever but I'm still training here and they don't go easy on the homework.” He vehemently shakes his head. 

“Guess that just makes you and me.” Scott grins with a shrug. 

At that very moment, the door opens and Clint strolls in, still in his pyjamas, with a croissant in his mouth. He’s too focused on his phone to notice the group of people staring straight at him as he wanders aimlessly. Natasha quickly grabs Scott’s arm and charges straight at Clint, dragging Scott behind her. As soon as she's in reaching distance she grabs Clint with her other hand and starts dragging him out of the door. 

“What the hell!” He screeches as he stumbles and flounders around. He's being dragged backwards faster than his legs can keep up making it look like he's moving on ice. 

“I've got a mission for you.” 

“A mission?! I'm in my pyjamas!” He hisses, trying to pull himself out of her grip. 

“Too bad. I told you not to wear your pyjamas around the academy.” Natasha growls without a hint of remorse. 

“Bye Clint! Have fun!” Bobbi shouts out after them as they disappear from view. She. Can still hear Clint indignant cries when he's long gone from their view. 

“He’ll be fine, right?” Banner mumbles as he looks at the now empty space in the room.

“Yeah…probably.”

~~~

01/07/1940, 21:18

“Steve.” A voice drifts through the heavy darkness surrounding Steve, “Steve.”

A shiver runs through his body. It’s as if he’s drowning in thick heavy cold. Even breathing is getting harder and harder. Despite all that, he still feels thick sweat sticking to his shivering skin. The sound of his teeth chattering rings out through his head.

There’s a rough itchy blanket tucked around him loosely. Part of him wants to brush off the material but his arm is too heavy to push it off. Curse his stupid weak arms. Right now he doesn’t even have the strength to open his eyes.

Suddenly, a warm, damp cloth is presses against his head. Small beads of water roll off of his forehead and down his cheeks like rogue tears. The new sensation rouses him slightly. Loosens his weary muscles.

“You alive?” Bucky mutters as Steve finally manages to open his eyes. He quickly soaks and rings the ragged cloth into a warm pan of water at his side.

“Bucky? What are you doing?” Steve croaks. It’s only when his throat stings and itches that he realises talking probably wasn’t a good idea. Not much feels like a good idea right now. Heck, even breathing sucks. Why does he breathe again?

“Keeping you alive apparently.” Bucky chuckles. Then the damp cloth is back on his brow and he’s never been more grateful.

“You’re always so dramatic. I’m doing fine.” Steve mumbles, already feeling the drowsiness choking him again. 

“Yeah, just fine.” Bucky sighs. 

“Why did you even come here. I thought you were taking you girl out to the pictures.” Steve slurs. Bucky had spent weeks convincing the girl to come out with him. He’d planned everything out perfectly. He’d been talking about this girl for weeks.

“You’re my best friend and your mother just died. Literally a week ago. You really think I was going to let you stay here all by yourself to brood?” Bucky laughs, “It’s a good thing I didn’t go out or there’d be no one here to take care of you.”

“I would’ve managed.” 

“Like you’ve managed every other time you’ve been ill?” As much as Steve would like to say he dealt with sickness like a champ, he really didn’t. Every single time was like a dance on the edge of a blade. If he hadn’t had Bucky or his Ma at his side dragging him through it all he’d have died years ago. But now Ma was gone. She was finally with dad again.

“I can cope you know. You don’t have to spend every waking moment of your life taking care of me. I’m a big boy.” All his life Bucky had been taking care of him. Literally the first thing he ever did was save Steve from getting beaten up in a back alley. 

“Actually, I think you’ll find you’re a very small boy. Besides, I like taking care of you. Someone needs to. If I left you alone you’d be a reckless idiot and get yourself killed within the week. Which is why I’m moving in with you.” Steve instantly sits up to look his best friend in the eyes. They’d done a ton of reckless, unplanned things in their day but this took the cookie. 

“What?”

“I’m moving in.”

“I already told you, I can manage on my own!”

“Who says this is about you? I’m the youngest of four - there’s not exactly bountiful space in my house and you’ve got a whole place to yourself. You gotta share out a bit of that space Stevie.”

“Bucky.”

“Look, we’ve practically lived together for as long as we’ve known each other. You might refuse to come and stay in my house but you can’t keep me from staying with you. I already told you that I’m with you until the end of the line. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You might be able to manage on your own but you don’t have to. You’ve got me. I’m never leaving your stupid stick ass.” Bucky says with his trademark rough gentleness. Bucky brushes Steve’s hair off of his forehead gently. 

“You’re not going to listen to anything I have to say are you?”

“Do you ever listen to me?”

“I listen to you.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever listened to a single thing anyone ever told you. You’re the worst at doing what you’re told.”

“You gotta rest. I’ll be here for the foreseeable future so save your arguments for when you’re back on your feet.”

As much as he tries to keep his eyes open it's as if he’s lost all control of his own body. Before he knows it his eyes are closed once again and the sounds of the world slowly fade into nothing. 

Cold grips him once again. Somehow it's gotten heavier. Every limb is weighted down and frozen stiff. It’s as if he’s been suspended. Floating freely in the air. Drifting. The world that was surrounding him has faded and dissolved. 

Then ever so slowly, he begins to warm up. It is hardly noticeable at first. A slight tingle on the tip of his finger. It almost feels as if he is passing his finger gently over a flickering candle. A pleasant warmth radiating through him. As time goes on the warmth gets stronger and spreads out through his body. Bit by bit the cold that was suspending him melts away. Thaws. Sweat begins beading on his forehead as the heat cushions him on a floaty cloud of warmth. 

The hard mattress he thought he was sleeping on has gone. No more scratchy sheets cover him. Now it’s as if he’s sinking lower and lower into the covers. If he stayed like this he could keep falling through this warm cloud indefinitely. Steve like to imagine that this is what the rich folks beds feel like. 

As he gets warmer and warmer the world becomes clearer. It all drifts closer into view. Soft smells of lavender and warm bread drift into focus. Despite how strange everything feels is like a little piece of home. It smells like bakers down the road and long days spent at Bucky’s over the summer.

Even the air tastes strangely sweet, if not a bit metallic. It certainly feels cleaner than the sooty, polluted Brooklyn air he’s used to. He takes deep gulps of the air in to try and drown out the oddly salty taste of the inside of his mouth.

Warm air blows across his face, drying out his mouth even further. IT might be a pleasant feeling if his throat didn’t feel like sandpaper. Was this all some odd hallucination from his sickness? If so it’s a hallucination he doesn’t want to wake up from.

“Bucky…?” He calls out. His lips are as dry as his throat so the word is hardly even audible.

Where before there was Bucky’s warm cloth, there’s now cool air roaming across his forehead. Where did Bucky go? He said he was going to stay.

“...waking up.” A completely unfamiliar voice comes into focus. It’s the end of a sentence or a conversation. A peek into some unfamiliar world.

Despite his disconnect with the world he can tell its a girls voice. Strangely harsh compared to what he’s used to. No, harsh isn’t the right word - commanding. Authoritative. There’s a gentleness in there though too. A far cry from Bucky’s caring teases.

“Back up a bit, give the guy some space.” A boy’s voice this time. For a second Steve thinks it could be Bucky - there’s the same tone to it - but it doesn’t feel quite right. It’s not home. It sits wrong in his chest like a puzzle piece out of place.

“He’s probably exhausted.” The girl’s voice is back again, much closer to him than the others. It runs deep with raw emotion. Washes over him as he tries to rouse himself from whatever strange sleep this is.

“Exhausted...He’s been sleeping for - ow, what was that for.” A new voice shouts out, much louder than the other two voices. 

The bed he’s on shifts slightly and sinks as someone sits down at his side. Even though it feels like a cloud he can hear the springs of the bed straining from the added weight. Just an incredibly soft bed then. 

“Shut up Tic Tac.” The boys voice grumbles. 

“You shut up.” The other boy whines. 

Slowly Steve’s eyes crack open. Light floods in and overwhelms him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut again. It's much harsher than he’s used to but that might just be because he’s had his eyes closed for so long

“Guys!” The girls voice shout out over the boys forcing them to quieten.

He tries opening his eyes again. This time he's ready for the barrage of light. His eyes quickly adjust and his surroundings become clearer.

He’s definitely not at home anymore. He has no idea where he is. The ceiling is perfectly white and completely unstained. It's as if it's been freshly painted before any imperfections can surface. The walls are cream and have also been freshly painted. 

“Steve Rogers?” The girls voice catches his attention. She’s perched on the bed by his feet. Her wavy red hair has been cut to shoulder length and it dances in the light breeze of the room. She’s dressed like a secretary in a smart white shirt that hangs loosely off of her body and a vibrant blue skirt. She’s got a stack of files on her lap, each with the same bird logo printed on the front.

“Yeah...that’s me…” Steve sits up slowly so he’s eye level with the girl. No, he’s taller than her. Much taller than her. When did that happen? Never in his life has he been taller than a girl the same age as him.

“It’s great to see you up and awake.” The girl smiles politely. She adjusts the position of the files on her lap and sits up straight.

Now he’s sat up he can see the two boys properly too. Both are dressed up in suits that are perfectly tailored to them yet somehow they don’t fit. One of the boys has messy dirty blonde hair that sticks up in all directions. His suit is pristine and freshly ironed - completely out of place when you look at the way he holds himself. 

The other boy shifts from foot to foot, pulling at his collar and fiddling with the buttons. His hands are unable to remain still for a second as he fiddles with the shirts material. Every time his hand reaches to undo the top button, the other boy slaps his hand away. His hair is dark and has been neatly styled but somehow makes him look five years younger - as if his mother did his hair for Sunday mass.

“Who are you people.” Steve backs away from the three strangers.

“My name is Natasha and these are great my colleges: Scott and Clint. We’re with an organisation called S.H.I.E.L.D and are in charge of getting you back on your feet.” She she speaks she points to the boys. The dark haired boy - Scott - waves enthusiastically as he’s introduced. Clint just crosses his arms and huffs in response. 

S.H.I.E.L.D...shield...there was a shield.

Bit by bit it slowly comes back to him. He remembers the night him and Bucky went out to see the Stark Expo. He remembers Bucky telling him he was leaving for the 107th infantry. He remembers Dr. Erskine. He was a soldier just like he’d always wanted. He was actually doing his part for once. For the first time in his life he was actually giving back instead of just being a burden. He wasn’t just a soldier either. A supersoldier. 

Then the bad memories rise to the surface as well. Dr. Erskine dead on the floor. Him trained to become a dancing monkey. Nothing more than a glorified poster boy. Captain America. Hearing about what happened to the 107th. What happened to Bucky. He’d thought he’d lost Bucky then. Never thought he would see his best friend again. He supposes he actually has lost Bucky this time. There’s no magical mission or daring rescue this time. Bucky is dead at the bottom of that ravine and Steve is here. Wherever here is...

“What happened…I was on a plane...I was talking to Peggy...where’s Peggy?”

I’d promised a dance. Maybe it’s a promise I can actually keep.

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly. She tears her eyes away from Steve and focuses on the stack of files in her lap. One of her fingers wanders and begins fiddling with the edge of the file. The edge frays slightly as she plays with it but neither of the boys stop her.

“About that...there’s some things we need to talk to you about. It's a long story.” Clint steps forward. He drops his arms down to his sides and rubs his forearm hesitantly.

“I’m all ears.” A dark feeling wells up inside of him. Where would Peggy be? He can’t lose her too. Not another person he loves. He’s already lost Bucky - he can’t handle losing Peggy too.

“You might want to have a drink first, when I said it was a long story I meant it. A seventy year long story in fact.” Natasha takes over.

“Well you better get started then.”


	20. Cap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cap meets the Avengers and chats with Bobbi about her past while Bruce meets a new friend

20/03/2016, 08:10

Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. Sad? Angry? Lonely? Happy? So many people he used to know - his friends - are dead. He’s missed so much while he was in the ice. He missed the end of the war. It still feels surreal to be told they won. That all the death and destruction had finally come to a close. But he doesn’t feel any of those things. He feels absolutely nothing.

Half in dream, he didn’t even notice when the three teens he’d been greeted by were ushered out of the room by a man in a long white coat. He didn’t notice until he was left completely alone in this foreign room.

Eventually his solitude is broken as a whole team of doctors and scientists flood the room and begin fussing over him. For a while, he lets them do their thing without stopping them. It feels strangely familiar at this point. He’s spent so much time in labs and hospitals that their poking and prodding is the only thing that feels the same as his life before all of this.

They check his heartbeat and his reflexes and a million other things he has no clue about using machines he’s never seen (despite how much time he spent in the hospital growing up). Not once does he try to stop any of them, not until they begin trying to take his blood. He grabs a hold of the empty syringe in the man’s hand before it can puncture his skin.

“Not the blood. No one is taking my blood.” The doctor nods quickly and wastes no time getting rid of the needle. The mans superior glares disapprovingly but makes no move to forcefully take Steve’s blood.

All his thoughts are drowned out by the sheer amount of noise. He'd gone from near silence to the crashing and thundering of dozens of doctors. Machines whirl all around him making the doctors just shout louder to be heard over the ruckus. Metal clangs as some of the Doctors rummage through a pot of metal medical tools.

“Are you able to stand up?” One of the Doctors asks, scribbling on her clipboard. Steve nods slowly, not entirely certain. He feels like he could but he doesn’t know for certain, “Can you try?”

Slowly, he pushes himself out of the bed and stands up on his feet. The world swims uncomfortably for a few seconds but quickly settle. It feels so much better to b standing up on his own instead of lying down pathetically in the bed. Even just the feel of the fresh air on his legs is liberating.

“Great, can you take a few steps for me?” The doctor asks patiently. He does as she says and takes a couple of steps forward. He’s wobbly at first but with every step he improves. Bit by bit his legs wake up and begin aching. It’s a good kind of ache though.

They go through a whole range of strangely humiliating but menial physical tasks. With every one he passes, they get progressively hard but he still feels like a toddler being taught how to walk. It’s so much worse than the tests and machines from before.

“You can sit back down in the bed again.” The doctor finally says. He doesn’t waste any time slipping under the covers to sit down on the bed. As much as he enjoyed the freedom of walking, he’d rather just be poked with medical equipment.

After what feels like hours everyone files out of the room leaving Steve alone. He feels both physically and mentally drained. He spent half his life exhausted - mentally and physically - but it’s never been this bad. Somehow, despite how much time he’s already missed, he feels like he could sleep for another 70 odd years.

For a few minutes he allows himself to lie back in his hospital bed and enjoy the quiet. Natasha had said this place was an academy. The S.H.I.E.L.D academy. When he listens closely, he can hear the people laughing and talking outside. Kids on their way to lessons discussing homework and assignments. It feels oddly surreal. Like a small snippet of displaced time.

It doesn’t take long for the crushing loneliness to come back at full force. Even in the days before the serum he’d never felt this lonely. Back then at least he’d had Bucky to keep him company through the long nights. Now almost all the friends he’d made since donning the shield were all gone. He found himself wishing for the doctors and their noise as opposed to this empty nothingness.

“Can I come in?” Steve jumps at the voice. Until a second ago, he could’ve sworn there was no one there, but now Natasha was stood at the foot of his bed. She’d changed into new clothes while he’d been with the doctors. Her shirt and skirt had been swapped for a sleek red dress that reminded him of Peggy. Her lips had been coloured bright red to match her flaming hair and dress. There's a small, silver arrow necklace fastened around her neck. The same one he noticed her wearing earlier that day. 

She stands patiently, waiting for his permission to move closer. She stands tall and holds her ground but he knows one word from him and she’d leave him to his solitude.

Steve nods ever so slightly, just enough for her to recognise. She takes a seat on Steve’s bed, close to him but not too close to be in his personal space. Despite the fact he towers over her now they’re both sitting, she seems to fill all the empty space in the room.

“They found this in the Valkyrie with you.” She holds out her open hand. Resting on her palm is a black compass he’d never thought he’d see again. His hands shake as he reaches out to take it from her. Her hands must’ve been cold because the metal still feels like ice as he takes it in his hand. He clicks open the cover to look at a familiar newspaper clipping of Peggy.

“Thank you.” He mumbles numbly. He runs a finger across the old, tattered newspaper cherishing how familiar it feels under his finger.

“How are you holding up.” She asks softly.

“I’m fine, I think. I just need some time to process it all.”

“Do you want anything?” Steve shakes his head. There’s nothing she could actually give him that would help right now, “Fury wanted to know if you’d rather stay here or in one of the dorm rooms. My team - _our_ team - has it’s own little flat up in the adjacent building with loads of free rooms if you’d rather stay there than here.” Natasha offers.

He waits for a few seconds, looking at the room around him. It had clearly been made specifically for him. It looked just like the kind of room he was used to back home. Back in the 1940’s. Although he hasn’t seen much of the new world he assumes the rest doesn’t look anything like what he’s used to. Somehow, the room doesn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it makes him feel worse. Trapped in a little room of frozen time. He wishes he could be back home in his time but this room just makes him homesick.

“I think I’d like that…” Steve mumbles. He doesn’t know what there flat is like but it must be better than this.

“The doctors have cleared you to leave whenever you want. It’s a miracle and makes no sense but you’re in perfect health. Whenever you’re ready to leave this place we can come by to help you move into the flat. There’s only a couple of us living there - it’s new to us all really.” Natasha smiles kindly.

“I’d like to leave now, if that’s alright with you.”

“You sure?”

“Certain. I think I’d go insane if I spent another minute here.”

“Do you need to changed or gather anythings?” For the first time Steve properly looks at what he’s wearing. Someone has changed him out of his uniform into a tight fitting white S.S.R shirt and a pair of beige trousers.

“I don’t have anything. Not anymore…” Natasha nods sombrely. Thankfully there’s no pity in her eyes. God he hated seeing pity in people’s eyes.

“Well if you’re sure, we could leave now then. Are you able to walk properly?” Steve nods weakly, remembering some of the tests the doctors had done earlier. He’d been able to walk perfectly fine then so he had no reason to believe he wouldn’t be able to make the journey now.

“I’ll go talk to the doctors now then. Don’t wander off.” Natasha slowly gets up off of the bed and pads out of the room almost silently. Nothing more than a breeze rippling through the room.

As soon as she’s left the room Steve swings his legs out of the bed. Without any doctors around to boss him about, he relishes the freedom. He paces around the room, trying to warm himself up for a longer walk. Instead of getting weaker and more tired with every step, he gets stronger.

Soon enough Natasha is back in the room. He’d thought it would take her longer to convince them but there is clearly more to the girl than she lets on. It doesn’t matter what she said to them to convince them, so long as it worked.

“They said it was fine?” Steve asks hopefully. Natasha keeps her distance, standing in the doorway to the room with her arms crossed.

“They didn’t have a choice.” Natasha says coolly but Steve senses something else behind the words. _Didn’t have a choice? How?_

“You ready to go then?” Natasha asks, acknowledging his pacing. He stops moving abruptly and nods. Before he’s even finished nodding she’s moving down the corridor without him. He takes a few seconds to process the situation before chasing after her.

As expected, the building is completely different as soon as he steps out of his room. Instead of painted cream walls, they’re all made of a pale yellow stone - sand stone. The ceilings are huge and somehow are designed to let tonnes of light in. It looks as bright as it would outside but there isn’t a single light on in the corridor.

Labs and classrooms begin appearing on all sides. Huge glass walls cover large sections of the building making it easy to peer into the fancy, futuristic labs. There’s technology that Steve could never even dream of filling every surface. Even the classrooms look technologically advance.

“You doing okay?” Natasha asks without even looking around at him. Her heels click on the hard floor as she struts down the corridor.

“I’m fine. This is all just...crazy. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He whispers. He’s all too aware that his mouth is hanging open at the sight.

“Tell me about it. This is the Science academy so this is all completely new to me too. These guys make some crazy tech. You’d have to get Banner to show you around though.” He catches Natasha sneakily eyeing up the devices in the labs just like he had been.

“Who’s Banner?” Steve matches her strides so they walk perfectly in time with one another.

“He’s a colleague of ours, kind of. He’s not properly a part of the Avengers because he’s not a fan of fighting or missions but he’s the first person I’d go to if we were in serious trouble. He decided to study at the science academy so he doesn’t live with us.”

“Where do you guys study?”

“Our base is the Operations academy but we don’t actually study, not like Bruce. A few of us - me, Clint and our friend Bobbi - all graduated already so we’re already agents but the others aren’t actually agents. We mostly train and go on missions. It beats having lessons though.” Natasha genuinely smiles for the first time.

“Sounds nice.” He smiles sadly. Where are the Howling Commandos now? What happened to all of them? Did they live happy lives? Did any of them ever get married?

“It is...it gives us a chance to do some good. Not all of us have perfect records but this lets us make up for our past misdeeds.” A darkness hangs around her as she says that. A million questions spring to mind but he stays quiet.

Suddenly the corridor opens out into a huge room that has three walls that are made only of huge panes of glass. The glass stretches up at least three floors completely uninterrupted. Sun streams in through the glass and almost blinds him. The one wall that isn’t made of glass is made from the same sandstone material that they used in the corridor. Balconies on the other floors overlook the room from high above.

It appears to be the foyer of the building but is much nicer than any he’s ever seen. It’s almost completely empty except for a few students that are milling around and talking. There’s only one thing in the room and it’s a huge stone slab right in the front window. A metal plaque has been attached onto the stone and has been neatly carved into in very small writing.

“It’s called the wall of valour.” Natasha points at the stone slab, “Every agent who’s died in the line of duty is inscribed on the metal. There’s one in each of the academy’s and in every S.H.I.E.L.D facility.” She explains patiently.

Without any conscious thought, he gravitates towards the slab with Natasha following closely behind him. Above each name is a little symbol - mostly the S.H.I.E.L.D logo but others - older ones - have the S.S.R logo he is currently sporting on his shirt. His finger runs along the cold metal, tracing every single name. They’re all unfamiliar but he carries each one. Commits it to memory.

His heart stops still as he finally comes across a familiar name.

_James Buchanan Barnes._

_Steven Grant Rogers._

They’d been placed side by side with S.S.R logos directly above them. He can’t even bring himself to touch the metal inscribed with their names. He pulls his hand away as if the metal is scalding.

“You okay?” Natasha places one hand gently on his arm. He tears himself away from the wall to look at her.

“I’m fine. Just...brought back some old memories.” He clears his throat and stands up straight. As expected, she looks just as concerned as before but she keeps moving anyway.

They head out of the building and onto the academy grounds. Despite the time of year, it’s warm which explains why all the students are outside. Of course, it makes no difference to Steve - ever since the serum everything has been completely different, he doesn’t even properly get cold anymore. When they’d been fighting in Germany he’d realised just how useful an ability like that is. Maybe even more useful than super strength.

The students are older than Steve had been expecting. When Natasha said her and her friends had already graduated she’d expected them to be the oldest students around but that clearly wasn’t the case. There were some younger students but they seemed to mostly be in the range of 16 to 25. No one even looked twice at Steve, he fit easily among them all since he was 18. People moved out of the way as they saw Natasha coming which gave them a clear path towards the Operations building Natasha had been talking about.

As they get closer to the other building the students appear to change. Instead of being dressed casually in their own clothes, the students are wearing a black S.H.I.E.L.D uniform. All of them look exactly the same and have the same deadly air about them. The other kids were students while these are soldiers. They’re just as young but look battle hardened. He can see how Natasha fits in with this crowd. It seems more like his crowd too. Reminds him of his army days. Once again, no one looks twice at them as they walk by. A few seem to recognise and respect Natasha but don’t scamper like the other students.

As they enter the other building, Steve notes that it is hardly any different to the last building. In fact the actual foyer looks exactly the same as the science academies except dirtier from all the mud and blood people are treading into the ground from their shoes. He suspects the differences will become clear in the classroom and learning areas but it’s still strange to see two almost identical buildings. There’s a wall of valour just like the last building but he makes sure he steers well clear of it this time.

He follows Natasha over to a glass elevator on the other side of the room. As soon as they’re both in she presses the button for their floor and the doors close behind them. Almost instantly, the elevator begin moving upwards at an alarming speed. He’s never really been in one himself but he doesn’t think they’re supposed to travel this fast. It is the future though so who knows.

Natasha quickly leads him out of the elevator down a slightly darker corridor that also has ridiculously high ceilings. This must be mostly offices or classrooms since all the open rooms are filled with now empty desks.

“Fury’s office is also on this floor if you ever need him. He’s the director of S.H.I.E.L.D and he manages the Avengers. You’ll get to meet him soon I’m sure. He was going to come down and see you while you were being defrosted but he got caught up working on a special project for S.H.I.E.L.D so he sent down Agent Coulson instead.”

“I don’t remember an Agent Coulson.” Since waking up he’d been introduced to and seen way too many people to keep up but none of them introduced themselves as _agent_. They were all mostly doctors to be honest.

“You wouldn’t have. He was called away for a recruitment mission so he couldn’t stay but he’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure he’ll corner you at some point and ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards.”

“Trading cards?” Since when did he have his own trading cards? Sure he was big in the war but trading cards are going a bit far. Due to him going under the ice he never really got to see the effect that Captain America must’ve had on the world to be this big.

“They’re vintage, he’s very proud.” Her voice wells up with fondness for the Agent that he can’t help but find contagious. He vows to try to sign the mans trading cards when he sees him, if not for the agents sake then for Natasha’s.

They round a corner and come to a dead end where there’s a single door. Natasha keeps walking towards the door which must be their destination. She slows down as she gets closer and turns to Steve.

“You ready to meet the rest of the team, Captain?” She asks with a smirk.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Natasha opens the door and steps straight in. He follows shyly behind her, keeping to the very edge of the room.

He recognises the boys - Clint and Scott - from when he woke up in the hospital bed but the others are completely new faces and nothing like he’d imagined. They’re all sprawled on the sofas in their pyjamas with huge bowls of popcorn, dry cereal and cartons of orange shared between them.

There’s a TV blaring in front of them playing some kind of kids cartoon. He knew the future was going to be crazy and different but seeing a TV casually in someone's house like that feels wrong. Sure some people used to have TV’s but only the richest. Never in his life did he imagine owning one himself.

As they enter, a few of the occupants turn around to investigate the newcomers. He watches as they stare straight at him, completely frozen. Should he introduce himself?

“Steve Rogers, I want you to meet the Avengers.” Natasha’s finger moves along the line of teenagers lounging on the sofas, “Clint, Bobbi, Hope, Scott, Wanda and Pietro.”

Scott jumps up from his seat, knocking the bowl of popcorn him and Hope had been sharing onto the floor. She scowls viciously and attempts to save what little she can from the floor. He completely ignores her, instead brushing down his pyjamas and straightening the crumpled material.

“Stop spilling the food!” She hisses as she cradles the bowl protectively.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Scott holds his hand out to Steve, awestruck.

“I still can’t believe you’re the actual Captain America. It’s such an honour to meet you sir.” Steve takes the boys hand cautiously and patiently stands still as the boy shakes his hand for an uncomfortably long time.

“Leave the guy alone.” Hope stands up and slaps her boyfriend around the head, prompting him to finally release Steve’s hand.

“It’s nice to properly meet you too.” He puts on the same smile he used to use when he was being carted around for shows.

Looking around, a few of the others have stood up like Scott and Hope. Wanda is stood up next to Scott and quickly reaches down to roughly drag her brother up off of the couch. He grumbles a bit but stays standing up once she releases him from her iron grip. Bobbi is also stood up casually but makes no move to force Clint off of the couch where he has nested.

“Nice to meet you, Captain.” Hope says coolly without offering her hand. She stands tall as if she was wearing a suit instead of a sports bra and leggings.

“We’d have gotten dressed if we’d known you were coming.” Bobbi says with a smile, stepping forward to shake his hand.

“Speak for yourselves.” Clint scoffs. He’s leaning slightly so he can see the TV screen past all the people standing up. One of his hands is still in the cereal bowl while the other is holding a mug of coffee. Like the others, he’s in his pyjamas which consist of a pair of navy jogging bottoms and a purple shirt with an arrow across it.

“Lucky Charm?” Clint holds the bowl of cereal out to Steve. He shakes his head, not trusting the strange bowl. He’s going to have to get used to the food now if it's all like this stuff.

Natasha walks over to the arm of the sofa and grabs a little remote that must apparently power the TV. She presses a red button on it and the TV quickly cuts out leaving Clint staring at a black screen.

“Hey! I was watching that.” Clint grumbles, still refusing to stand up. HE glares at Natasha but doesn’t make any move to grab the remote from her.

“This must be pretty overwhelming for you. Would you like to choose a room? Any of the ones that aren’t marked are free for you to take.” Bobbi offers, gesturing to the doors that are surrounding the room.

The majority of the rooms have been claimed and marked by the others. One has an arrow stuck out of the door while another has a dart board nailed onto the front. Bobbi must’ve used a knife or other sharp object to scratch her name into the wood of the door. Other doors have taken a less...violent approach to marking and have instead written their names on the door. One has has a little nameplate reading Hope while the one next to it has Scott written in stickers. Wanda and Pietro have both written their names as well but just stuck the pieces of paper on the door with tape.

Steve decides on the closest door to him which just so happens to be the one next to Clint. Bobbi walks over with him while the others retake their seats on the sofa (Natasha stealing Bobbi’s old spot next to Clint). Steve enters the room first and waits for Bobbi to enter before closing the door.

It’s a much nicer and bigger room than he’s used to. All the walls are painted plain white with a pale wooden floor. In one corner is a bed without any covers facing a huge window that shows the expansive forest beyond the academy. A dark blue blind is suspended above the window, waiting to be drawn. Next to the bed is a dark wooden desk that matches the dark wooden wardrobe on the other wall. It’s simple and empty but much nicer than anything he’s used to.

“The walls are a bit plain but feel free to paint them. When Scott’s sister was round we all painted our walls so we should have lots of spare paints in on of the cupboards somewhere.” Bobbi says as she takes a seat on Steve’s new bed.

With such huge walls he thinks of all the things he could paint on the expansive empty walls. Maybe when he’s more settled in he’d take her up on those paints. Painting on a scale like this would be a first but it could be fun.

“Thanks, this is all pretty nuts.” He mumbles as he sits next to Bobbi.

“Well, in fairness this place is pretty nuts even in our time. Our whole team is crazy. At least five of us can be considered to have superpowers - if you’re not including Clint’s insane ability to fall asleep anywhere. We’re not exactly normal.”

“Superpowers?” At this point he’s not even surprised anymore. There had been a time where he was the craziest thing science had ever cooked up but it was becoming clear that that was no longer the case.

“Yeah, that’s why this team was assembled really. Nat and Clint are basically powerless but incredibly skilled while the rest of us have what people would call superpowers. Hope and Scott have special suits that can make them shrink, Wanda and Pietro are mutants. He can run really fast while she can do what she likes to call ‘reality warping’ but no one really knows what that means. She seems to just do a bit of everything.” Bobbi sighs, leaning back slightly and looking up at the ceiling.

“And you?” Steve asks after a pregnant pause.

“When you went under the ice people spent decades searching for you or a way to replicate you. You were a hero. Kids grew up listening to stories about Captain America and his Howling Commandos. You were the closest we all had to superheroes before people discovered that mutants existed.” He’d always known people would want to replicate Project Rebirth - heck, if the army had gotten their way he’d have been shipped off for testing before anyone even knew the name Captain America - but it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about him. IT feels like some other man. Some other hero that shaped the modern world. 

“I was a scientist before all this, I spent years working with SHIELD scientists growing up trying to help them replicate the super soldier serum that created you. We managed to create something like the super soldier serum - we have 6 doses but that was all we could make in the end. Five of the six went missing when we tried to send them to a colleague of Fury’s, Howard Stark, but we managed to keep a hold of one. It wasn’t meant for me but things happened and Fury made the call to inject me with it. It’s not perfect but it does make me stronger and faster - even if it's not as strong as the stuff you were injected with.” Bobbi explains, opening and closing her fist slowly.

Howard Stark...so he’s still up and kicking. He’d been so young last time Steve saw him. A young up and coming apprentice to Dr. Erskine. It makes sense he’d still be working on the super soldier serum. It’s strange to imagine the very young teenage boy he’d once known grown up. Did he ever make a name for himself? He certainly had the brains to.

“Two super soldiers on one team. I’m used to being the only one so imagine what we could do with two of us.”

“One team? So you’re joining the Avengers?”

“I don’t see why else Fury would’ve asked me to stay with you guys.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I’ve been sleeping for over 70 years. I think it’s about time I did something.”

“It’s not easy you know.”

“When has it ever been?”

“We’re going training later, you can come join us if you want. It would be a good opportunity to get to know the team if you’re serious about wanting to join.”

“Sounds like fun.” “First I was wondering if you could tell me something about Banner.”

~~~

20/03/2016, 12:30

Bruce was exhausted. Ever since coming to S.H.I.E.L.D he’d gotten lazy. He used to be able to go days without sleeping properly or without proper food but now he’d slept for 4 hours straight and still felt like he was going to keel over and die.

He stumbles through the lab carrying two vials of an blood over to the centrifuge. All the fumes in the Biology lab are certainly not helping his exhaustion. He was supposed to be finishing this project up this evening so he could start his next group project bright an early tomorrow. He still had yet to check the email informing him of his partner for the project but there would be time for that later.

He clicks the vials into the centrifuge opposite one another and turns the machine on, leaning against the counter top while he waits. His previous studies and PHD had all been around physics and gamma radiation so the S.H.I.E.L.D biochem course was a nice change. Of course, all the courses were fairly intertwined but his projects were all focused on Biochem.

He’d thought he would struggle getting back into the flow of school and normal life but he hardly struggled at all. He had yet to make any friends other than the Avengers (a group he was still adamantly not a part of) but that was by design. Kids in the other academies might not know his name but everyone here did. Bruce Banner. The Hulk. There were more people that admired him than he thought there would be but he couldn’t exactly befriend any of them. Not with the Hulk.

The door to the lab opens suddenly causing Bruce to jump. Everyone else is out at lunch so he’s completely alone in the room. The glass doors have slid open as a girl steps over the threshold, her arms filled with petri dishes. It takes him a couple of seconds to recognise her under the harsh light but he’s sure she’s the girl he worked with on the Helicarrier. Jemma Simmons.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I thought the lab would be empty.” She mumbles as she sets her stuff down on the worktop.

“No it’s fine. The lab is designed for a whole class of students so two shouldn’t be a problem.” Bruce explains, avoiding all eye contact with her. He keeps his back turned to her to try and block her out as much as possible.

“I don’t know if you remember me from the - ” She says quickly after a minute or so of silence. SHe stumbles over her words, chuckling awkwardly as she speaks.

“I remember you. Jemma Simmons. You were on the Helicarrier right.” He interrupts. His back is still turned to her and he’s hunched over to make himself as small as possible. She’s still pottering around behind him sorting out her equipment while she talks.

“You were sent down onto the field after that right? Fury mentioned it.” She asks, slower this time and without any forced laughter.

“Yeah. Unfortunately no one else could do it.”

“How did it go? How were the devices? Did they work?” She asks, speeding up again. She's now stood next to him, leaving plenty of space between the two of them.

“They were all destroyed. We didn’t even get to use one. They attacked up before we got the chance.” Bruce mumbles, clenching his fist.

“You all got out okay though?”

“Mostly, yes. Two guys got shot - one of them was in a coma but he’s okay now.” He hadn’t seen Pietro properly since waking up but he’d heard from Hope that he was doing quite well now. Apparently he’s running about again which is a good sign.

“Kinda a shame for you. You went down there for no reason.”

“I don’t think it was quite for no reason. I’m fairly sure Fury got exactly what he wanted when he sent me down.” He grumbles. Although he’s staying with S.H.I.E.L.D for the foreseeable future, he doesn’t like the man. He doubts he’ll ever like the spymaster director of S.H.I.E.L.D but the setup they have now is workable.

“We’re partners on the next project by the way. You got any ideas?” _Well that answers that question._

“Not yet.” In truth he’d thought of a couple of ideas but the girl seemed plenty smart, it would only be fair to give her a chance to think of some ideas of her own before he gives his input.

“I’ve seen you around class but I didn’t want to interrupt you. You’re pretty focused when you start working.”

“I’m used to working in quite distracting conditions, it requires a lot of focus. I’ve also had to train myself to block out any unwanted stimuli.”

“Because of the whole - ”

“Yeah.” He snaps.

Thankfully the door to the lab opens at that exact moment saving him from any more awkward conversations. He finally turns around to see who the newcomer is. It’s a blond guy dressed in a strange white shirt, looking down at a scrap of paper that must have directions on it. As he steps into the lab he looks up from the paper and his eyes find Bruce. As soon as their eyes meet, Bruce knows exactly who he’s looking at.

“Steve.” He mutters, taking a step towards the older boy.

“Banner?” He begins walking toward Bruce uncertainly.

“What can I do for you?” Bruce asks, ringing his hands. Jemma stands next to him with her mouth hanging agape.

“Steve Rogers…?” She hisses under her breath, not moving a muscle.

“I wanted to come here to thank you. I heard you were the one that found me and made the device that lead you there - and I wanted to ask you some questions if you wouldn’t mind.” Steve looks over his shoulder at the door he just came through.

“Uh, sure.” Bruce mumbles, looking over to Jemma for confirmation, “Could you watch my stuff for a minute.”

“Yeah, course. No problem. None at all.” She says over enthusiastically.

Bruce follows Steve out of the door of the lab into the corridor. Once they’re outside Steve looks both ways before stopping and leaning against a wall. Bruce stands awkwardly next to him, using one hand to grip his other arm close to his body.

“She seems very nice. A friend?”

“Something like that.” In all honesty, it was hard not to like her. She asked a lot of annoying questions but somehow that didn’t make her any less likable. From what he had seen, she was an odd bird like him. An outsider even here in the S.H.I.E.L.D academy.

“What did you want to ask.” Bruce stammers, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to look. This was Captain America. _The_ Captain America. Imagine if good old dad could see him now.

“Bobbi was explaining how you all found me. Said you were tracking the signatures coming off of the Tesseract.”

“Yeah…”

“Did you - or could you - find it?” Steve wrings his hands absentmindedly.

“We tried but the signature took us to you and we searched that ship top to bottom and found no trace of it.” All their searching had come up fruitless except for the discovery of the man now standing in front of him which is a miracle in itself.

“I saw what that thing could do back in world war 2 and it isn’t good. No one, not even SHIELD should have that thing. It should stay buried under the ice.”

“I promise you, we didn’t find it. Natasha looked everywhere and so did Thor. Neither of them found it anywhere. I have no idea where it went but I assume it must’ve sunk to the bottom of the sea somewhere too deep to be recovered or give off any signals.” He’d tried to use the device to search the Valkyrie but the device must’ve broken or something. Maybe all the ice was interfering with the system. It kept randomly showing spikes of energy when there was clearly no Tesseract in sight. Wherever it is, it sounds like it’s better off lost forever.

“Okay, good.” Steve breathes out deeply and his muscles loosen.

“Thor’s going to keep looking for it but I don’t think he’s going to find anything.”

“Bobbi wanted me to tell you that they’re having a games night tonight and you’re invited. She insisted that you come. Said it wasn’t an offer you could turn down.”

“Course not.” “I’ll drop by if I’ve finished my project.” But he already knows he’s going to have finished it. There’s hardly anything left to do now so he’ll be finished in time, as always.

“See you later then.” Steve says. An unspoken promise that Bruce will be there.

“See you then.” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little floor plan of the flat because I'm terrible at describing (great thing for a writer to say). I know its pretty terrible but hopefully it helps slightly with understanding the layout since I know my descriptions are hard to follow.
> 
> Endgame is FOUR days! Next time I upload I'll have watched the film!
> 
> Hope you all had a great Easter (or just weekend if you don't celebrate Easter) and have great week until I see you again.


	21. The Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Avengers game night in the S.H.I.E.L.D academy while Howard and Tony prepare to leave for Afghanistan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally (properly) introducing the last piece of the avengers puzzle, the resident billionaire.

_20/03/2016, 19:02_

Hope sits down by the kitchen table, her legs stretched out onto the chair next to her. Right now everyone was still recovering from the training session which meant the common area was quiet and empty. Normally she might stay in her room but she’d figured she should make the most of the quiet out here before everything inevitably descends into chaos again. Tonight was supposed to be a games night - an event that only ever lead to chaos.

They’d tried a couple of different games over the last couple of weeks and all of them had ended badly. Turns out Natasha isn’t all too keen on paying Scott money in Monopoly which lead to her creating her own set of rules that involved considerably more knives than Hope remembered. Pietro had begun using his abilities for evil - cheating and looking at everyone's cards every time they tried to play a card game. Even Uno was off the table - Hulk had taking a liking to the game so every round was a dangerous coin flip, especially if the Maximoffs happened to be in his vicinity. Somehow Scott managed to be the only honest player on the team.

“Hey. You’re Hope right?” A voice asks out of nowhere. She whips around to see Steve stood in the doorway to the shower room, a towel hanging around his neck and fresh clothes on. Scott must’ve gotten him the clothes because they were all suspiciously one size too small. Someone needed to buy him some clothes that actually fit for a change.

“Yeah. Hope Van Dyne.” She mutters, slowly removing her legs from the chair. He probably wouldn't care but it was a force of habit. He slowly walks towards her, waiting for her to stop him.

“Do you mind if I take a seat? There’s not much to do in my room since all my stuff was taken to a museum or something after I went under the ice.” He stops behind on of the chairs.

“Sure, I wasn’t doing anything anyway - just preparing myself for the inevitable chaos to come.” Hope sighs. Steve nods gratefully and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table to her with the towel still around his neck. His hair sticks up wildly in all angles, drops of water still clinging to the strands.

“I’m not entirely sure what’s supposed to be happening. Why is it going to be chaotic?” He asks curiously, attempting to make small talk.

“We just play board games or card games. It’s supposed to be good team bonding but it never works out that way. Let’s just say that no one here - including myself - is fond of losing but a games night always leads to at least one loser.” She knew full well that she was just as bad as the others. Losing wasn’t something she would ever get used to. There was no way she was letting Scott crush her in Monopoly again. He still rubbed it in her face to this day.

“Sounds fun.” The corner of his mouth curves up ever so slightly into the hint of a smile.

“That’s one way of looking at it…” She mutters to herself, “I didn’t bring much with me when I came here. My dad kicked me and Scott out of the house just as we’d started patching things up between each other and we didn’t have the time or space to pack much more than clothes. I did manage to get a couple of books into my case though - just some of the classics. I could lend them to you, if you wanted. You missed quite a lot, it’s a good place to start catching up on what you missed.” She says, trying to change the topic. 

Scott might've been used to living out of a suitcase but Hope wasn't. Her dad forcing her to up and leave her own home without any of her things had been harder than she thought it would be. None of the other Avengers seemed to own anything before S.H.I.E.L.D so she was the only one who'd lost anything. Most of the time it didn't bother her but sometimes she'd remember how little she had now and it would hurt more than it should.

“That would be nice, thanks. It’s been really strange since waking up. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a completely new and foreign world.”

“Give me a second.” She mutters, an idea springing up in her mind. Without waiting for Steve’s response she jumps up from her chair and runs over to her room.

“What are you doing?” She hears him shout through the open door to her room. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she walks over to the desk and pulls out the draw. Right on top of her files is her notebook. It’s almost completely empty - only the first few pages filled out with some irrelevant nonsense she hadn’t looked at in months. She rips out those pages and throws them straight into the bin without even looking at them. For now it’ll do.

She rummages through the desk again and picks up a pencil. It’s mostly blunt but it’ll be enough for now. She'd have to ask Coulson for some more pens and pencils the next time she sees him. More often than not, he's on a mission nowadays. It seems he doesn't even have time for Clint and Natasha anymore.

She gathers the note book and pencil and checks for anything else she might need. Most of the draw is empty and there doesn't appear to be anything else of use to her. She quietly closes the draw, hearing the few pencils she has roll around loose in the desk. Not wanting to keep Steve waiting any longer she flicks off the light switch and closes the door behind her, drowning her room in darkness.

“I needed to grab these.” She sets them on the table in front of Steve. He picks up the pencil first, turning it over in his hand. His finger brushes over the blunt tip thoughtfully. 

“What are these for?” He asks, setting the pencil back down on the table.

“A list. To keep track of everything you need to catch up on - TV shows, books, music, documentaries.” She retakes her previous seat and slides the notebook and pencil over towards her. She quickly flicks open the notebook to the first page and writes a small title: To Do List. She can feel Steve leaning froward to examine whatever she's writing but decides to ignore him. First she writes down a list of documentaries that would summarise the last few years for him before moving onto films and TV shows like Star Wars, Star Trek, Sherlock and Friends.

A sudden knock at the door snaps them both out of their little world. They exchange a look, silently asking who will get up to open the door. After a few seconds, Steve gets up, beating Hope to it by a second. As he walks over to the door, she turns back to the list and begins scrawling down bands he's missed out on.

“Banner.” Steve greets the new arrival. He opens the door wide to reveal Banner stood awkwardly. He's as dishevelled as ever, hair messy and floppy. It's brushed out of his face but that's as much as he bothered to do. His favourite purple shirt is half tucked into his trousers, the other half untucked and creased beyond hope. Theres a bag in one of his hands, most likely containing food for everyone. For some reason Banner was the only person actually allowed to take food out of the canteen. Natasha might do it a lot but she wasn't actually allowed too - no one wanted to stop her though. 

"Yeah, it’s me.” Banner peers through the doorway hesitantly, “Where are the others?” His eyes scan the near empty room. Normally everyone is up and out of their rooms by now so the emptiness is unusual, as is the quiet.

“The twins aren’t joining us - if that’s what you’re asking. They had an extra training session with Clint today so are knackered. Wanda almost fell asleep while we were walking back up here.” Hope explains without looking up. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him nod and step into the room.

“How was the rest of your day?” Steve asks politely. It’s strange, he actually kind of reminds her of Banner in way.

“Alright. I finished my project early so I grabbed some food from the canteen. I guess I got here a bit early.” He mumbles. He lets Steve lead him over to the kitchen table and takes a seat as far away from Steve and Hope as possible.

“I heard someone mention food!” Scott's head appears round his doorway. When it comes to food he seems to suddenly have amazing hearing, “Hey Bruce! You grab tacos?” Scott jogs over to Banner and takes a seat right next to him. Surprisingly, the boy doesn’t flinch or shuffle away and sits contently beside Scott.

“Yeah, I remembered.” He bends down and pulls a polystyrene box out of the bag he’d been carrying. He places it on the table in front of Scott. Without waiting a single second, Scott swoops down and opens the box to devour the taco.

"I got everyone else food too. I wasn't sure if the twins would be here too so I brought them food anyway. I didn't know what you liked but so I just got you some pasta." Banner addresses Steve.

"It's fine, I'll eat almost anything. You can't be picky in the war." He forces a smile before peering over Hopes shoulder again, “Whats Star Wars?” Steve mutters, looking over at Hope’s list. Scott instantly stops eating to look at Steve with complete and utter shock.

“You haven’t seen Star Wars?!” He gasps, accidentally dropping some of his taco filling into the box.

“He’s been under the ice for 70 years - he couldn’t exactly watch it could he.” Banner sighs, leaning back in his chair slightly.

“So he hasn’t been spoiled yet! We have the last unspoiled person right here with us.” Scott mumbles enthusiastically.

“Let’s stick with the games night for now - we can get to Star Wars another day.” Scott jumps as Bobbi suddenly appears directly behind him, “We should probably wake Clint up.” She sighs.

"I'm not going in there to get stabbed by one of his arrows." Hope grumbles. Waking up Clint or Natasha is practically a death sentence. It's always easier to get them to wake each other up."

"No need. I've already woken him up." Natasha mumbles as she walks out of Clint's room. It's unclear when she went into his room but Hope wouldn't be surprised if she was in there the whole time. They often spend time in each others rooms but no one has ever dared talk about it. Personally, Hope has just decided to leave them to do their own thing. People deal with their issues in their own ways.

"Here's my list." Hope closes the book and hands it back to Steve. He takes it carefully and skims the list on the first page.

"Thanks, I'll look at each of these later." He smiles weakly and tucks the book in his back pocket. It fits almost perfectly in his pocket, almost invisible. He casually rests the pencil behind his ear like its second nature. It strangely suits him.

Natasha perches on the sofa, her legs folded up and pressed against her chest. Her arms wind around her legs, keeping them pressed as close as physically possible to her chest. Her red hair hangs over her face, almost covering her features completely.

Bobbi walks over and takes a seat next her on the sofa, claiming one of the spaces on the sofa. Steve and Hope both follow behind her, walking towards the other unoccupied sofa. Even Bruce walks over, taking a seat next to Steve on the part of the sofa closest to Steve. Eventually, it's just Scott left alone at the kitchen table, still eating his tacos.

"I'm still eating guys!" He exclaims, pointing at his half eaten taco.

"That's what you get for eating early." Hope grins, enjoying her little spot on Steve's other side.

"What you doing over there Tic Tac?" Clint asks, appearing from out of his room. He saunters over to Bobbi and Natasha's sofa and vaults over the back, landing on the one remaining seat next to Bobbi.

"Great, I'm the one without a seat on the sofa again." He scowls, dropping the taco back into the box, "I'm picking the game then - seeming as you've all settled down already." He crosses his arms and sticks the box into the fridge. Scott's choice of game will almost definitely suck but if she gets out of her seat then he will almost certainly steal it from her.

No one stops him as he goes over to the games cupboard under the TV and chooses a game at random from the now very limited selection. Every time they are forced to stop playing a game Bobbi sticks a post it note on the box to keep track of which games are dangerous to play. At this point about 80% of the games have a post it note on them.

Scott picks out a game, hiding the box from them all as he saunters over to the sofa's a bit too happy with himself. He sets the box down on the floor in front of the sofa's. Hope sits forward, craning her neck to get a better look at what he's chosen.

"Who wants to play operation."

~~~

_25/03/2016, 17:00_

Virginia Potts had never been good with kids. It’s not that she didn’t like them, she just never knew what to do with them. Give her a stack of paperwork, an angry customer, heck even a company and she’d work through it and come out on top. Give her a kid and she was stumped.

As a result she tended to stay away from babysitting jobs yet here she was. A few weeks ago, while interning as an accountant, she’d spotted some errors in the maths that ended up saving the company a lot of money and as a reward was this new job. It was supposed to be an actual job as a personal assistant for the Stark's but in reality she was just a glorified babysitter.

Carefully, she walks down the winding glass staircase with a plate of food in hand. There’s a stack of files tucked precariously under her left arm. Her heels click against the smooth surface but are quickly drowned out by Highway To Hell blasting at full volume from the basement of the mansion.

“Tony?” She shouts out as she steps off of the staircase. His lab is right ahead, the glass walls showing everything inside the room. Despite that, she can’t see anyone in there. If it wasn’t for the music blaring she’d think the room was empty - not that he ever seemed to leave the lab.

“I’m coming in!” She attempts to yell over the music to no avail. _Well it’s his fault if he doesn’t want me in there._

She frees one of her hands, shifting the plate so she can balance it in her left hand. She quickly taps the keycode (08111943) into the machine and listens for the confirmatory ding as the door unlocks. The glass door slides open to let her in and a cold breeze billows past her. For some reason he always keeps his lab a couple of degrees colder than the rest of the house.

Cautiously, she slips through the lab, doing her best to dodge the piles of junk metal littering the place. Every surface is covered in strange devices that she’s stopped asking the purpose of. There are empty coffee mugs strewn about, as unwashed as ever. There’s no way he’d survive in this world without Jarvis and her there to pick up after him and keep him fed.

“Tony!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, trying to shield her ears as much as possible with her one free hand. Yet he still doesn’t hear her, lost in his work somewhere in the room. Setting the plate down on one side, she walks over to the music player at the edge of the lab. As usual she wastes no time locating and pressing the off button, giving her ears some much needed quiet. As soon as the music is off, she hears the clatter of metal from the corner of the lab.

“Pep?” Tony crawls out from underneath an odd metal contraption. Oil is stuck to his face and his hair is flopping down almost reaching his eyes. He’s still wearing the same big bang theory physics shirt from two days ago.

“What are you doing here? Weren't you going on about some family thing you were going to.” He mutters, jumping up from the floor and brushing himself down.

“It wasn’t some family thing, it was a friends birthday party. Besides that was yesterday - it’s now 5 o’clock on Friday which means food.” She presses the plate into his hands but he simply sets it to one side.

“You need to eat Tony. You haven’t changed out if your clothes from Wednesday which I assume means you haven't slept since then. When was the last time you ate?” She scolds him. He might be 17 now but he still acts like a seven year old sometimes.

“I drank coffee like five minutes ago.” He grumbles, nodding towards a half drunk mug of coffee on the counter top. Hesitantly she examines the cup, bringing it to her nose to smell. She's had more than one dangerous encounter with Tony's coffee mugs to know better than to trying drinking any. Sure enough, the smell of alcohol and motor oil overpower the smell of coffee.

“That's it, I'm taking you to bed.” She pours the mug of tea down the drain, watching as three metal nuts and a screw fall out of the cup along with Tonys...drink.

“I'm fine! Besides I can't go to bed now, I've gotta keep working on Dum-E’s upgrades. I'm making him bigger and giving him proper arms so he can help out in the lab, ain't that right bud?” The machine Tony was working on bleeps in agreement, spinning around on the spot and accidentally knocking over Tony’s trophy shelf. The trophies clatter to the floor, some of the glass ones shattering everywhere.

“They weren’t important…” Tony winces at the mess on the floor, “Mom's going to kill me.” He mutters under his breath.

“You most certainly are not fine. You just drank one of Dum-E’s motor oil coffees, not to mention you must’ve poured a whole flask of vodka in that thing.”

“That's why it tasted so bad...I gotta teach him how to make a good coffee after this.” Tony mutters to himself. Instead of doing as he's told, he turns back to his tools and begins inspecting which to use next.

“Tony - ” Pepper starts but she's cut off by the sound of the door opening behind her.

Both her and Tony turn around to see Jarvis entering the lab somberly. He looks the same as he always does, his suit neatly ironed without a single thing out of place. Yet somehow he looks a hundred years older. Against all odds, his hair is greyer and thinner than ever. In the last few months his skin has gotten more wrinkled and the bags under his eyes more pronounced.

“Master Tony, I see you are still working.” Jarvis mutters stoically.

“Will you tell him to go to sleep? I've tried telling him but he never listens to me - maybe you'll have more luck.” She sighs. If there was anyone in this world he would listen to it was Edwin Jarvis. If he ever decided to push for anything Tony wouldn't hesitate to give it. For Tony's sake shes glad the man never has and never will.

“Young Tony listens more to you than you might think Miss Potts.” To her it felt like he'd never listened to a single thing she said. He never once turned up at events she had told him to be at - instead he took it upon himself to turn up in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. Even basic demands like eating and sleeping were thrown in her face. In fact, the only thing he ever seemed to do properly were his designs and prototypes and even those he handed in late in favour of his own, non weapon based personal projects.

“What brings you down here J. I didn't expect to see you around the mansion.” Tony prods the elephant in the room. As usual Jarvis remains completely stoic - somehow able to act as if Tony hadn't even spoken, a skill she had yet to learn.

“I came here to tell you that Mr Stark requires your presence in his office.” Tony scoffs loudly, “And because I'm worried about you. Miss Potts seems to be doing a fine job of keeping you in check but I can't help but worry. I know. Maria and Howard can be quite busy but - ”

“Quite busy.” Tony chuckles to himself, “That's one way to put it. Sure they have parties and holidays and board meetings and piano lessons to go to but even when they do decide to stick around I don't see them. Not unless they want to dress me up and parade me around or force me into a stuffy board room meeting.” With every word Tony brings down his hammer onto a large sheet of metal he's trying to flatten.

Jarvis takes a step towards Tony and opens his mouth but no words come out. After a few seconds he closes his mouth and retreats back.

“You dont have to stick around for me. I figured you'd be worried so I've created ‘Just A Rather Very Intelligent System’ or JARVIS.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you both.” A disembodied voice speaks out from around the room. Unsurprisingly, the voice sounds suspiciously like Jarvis himself. They're not exactly the same but they're incredibly similar.

“He’s the AI I'm working on. I even made him sound like you so it'll be like you're still nagging me. You can leave and don't need to worry about me cause I'll have him and Pep here to keep me fed.”

“I endeavour to do my best sir. You make taking care of you so easy.” The AI sighs with much more snark than Jarvis could ever have.

“He's a learning AI so he might've picked up a few bad habits. I might not be the best influence on a young AI…” Tony mumbles.

“I'm delighted I'll get to spend eternity as a disembodied voice.” Pepper hears Jarvis mutter to quietly for Tony to hear, “Unfortunately Mr Stark still wishes to speak with you.”

“Tell him I'm not in the mood for one of his rants. He can try again tomorrow when I haven't just drank motor oil.” Tony grumbles, carrying on with his hammering in an attempt to drown out Jarvis.

“I'm afraid it's not the kind of invitation you can decline and it's not the kind that can be postponed. He wants you to both leave now to board the jet.” Jarvis say regretfully. The man takes a step towards Tony but makes sure there still a considerable distance between them.

“Now? I thought the presentation in Afghanistan was tomorrow. Why are we leaving so early?” Tony sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“It seems sir needs to make a pit stop before you fly out. He's tried as hard as he can to keep you out of it but there isn't time for him to fly back here and pick you up tomorrow.” He says sadly. It's more of an apology than Howard would ever give. 

“When does he need me?” Tony places his spanner back on the table with a sigh. He picks up a dirty cloth from the side and pathetically attempts to wipe away the oil coating his hands. If anything it appears to make them more dirty.

“Five minutes ago, sir.”

“Ugh, fine. Let's go then. We can't keep the old man waiting.” Tony throws the towel to one side, not caring that it hits the wall leaving a large stain on the previously pristine white wall.

“You can't actually be going! You're in no fit state. You need sleep and food not a flight in a private jet.” Pepper exclaims as they both begin moving for the door leading out of the lab. No way will Howard let him rest. Not when they're attending a business presentation.

“I'll be fine, you need to stop mothering me.” he grumbles, folding his arms and crooking an eyebrow at Pepper. 

“I thought I was being paid to mother you and fill out all you paper work and do all your hard jobs.” She takes a step towards Tony, fully prepared to restrain him to make him rest. Afghanistan can wait until tomorrow.

“Fine,” He walks over to the plate she'd brought down and picks up the sandwich. He hurriedly takes two huge bites out of the sandwich. “Now I've eaten and I can sleep on the jet.” He sets what's left of the sandwich down on the plate, half eaten. She'd force him to eat more but Howard will at least allow him to eat on the plane.

“You won't.” She crosses her arms.

“No I won't.” He agrees. At least he isn't denying it anymore.

“What about the files you still haven't filled out?” She points to the pile of files she'd brought down for him to fill out. She'd do whatever she could in the breaks between lessons but most of it needed to be filled out by someone who actually knew the tech (with some assistance from her).

“Leave then on the side, I'll deal with them when I get back on Monday.” Tony sighs, running his forehead with his oily hands. A huge smudge of oil sticks to his skin making him even less presentable than he already was. She reaches over and grabs a clean cloth from the side to gently wipe all the filth off of his face. He stays remarkably still the whole time, barely moving a muscle. There's no escaping the feeling of his eyes on her as she works.

“I'll talk to Maria and get the files sorted over the weekend. JARVIS should be able to help too right?” She places the now dirty cloth in the sink despite knowing no one will ever clean it.

“No. You're taking the weekend off. Go watch films and braid your hair or whatever it is girls do. You don’t take many days off so treat this as a vacation.” She’d always prided herself on her work ethic. Occasionally she would take a day off but she never failed to work back the hours. Just yesterday she’d had the day off, she can’t just go back on another holiday when there are things to be done in the Mansion.

“I'm not - ” She starts but it's promptly cut off by Tony.

“Yes you are. Don't worry, Stark Industries will manage without you for one weekend.” It’s clear that no matter what he says, he won't budge.

As Tony walks away from her towards the door of the lab, it's all she can do to trail behind him and Jarvis. Despite the importance of his destination he doesn’t head towards his room to change. Turning up to Howard’s office late is one thing but turning up dressed like that? Not one had she ever seen a Howard, in a photo or in person, dressed in anything other than a three piece suit.

It’s clear Tony is in no hurry to get anywhere any time soon. The Stark mansion has always been bigger than Pepper could ever comprehend but walking through it really highlights that. Tony’s lab had been carefully placed on the opposite side of the building to Howard’s office and lab making the journey to Howard’s office even longer.

Tony slows down as they approach the front door of the mansion so he can fall into step behind Jarvis. Pepper slows down as well, wanting to give the two of them some space. IT had been months since they properly spoke. Each of the increasingly rare times Jarvis was in the mansion looking for Tony, he managed to disappear leaving Pepper to deal with Jarvis. Frankly she’d had enough of Tony dancing around the issue.

“You don't need to walk me the whole way there you know. You can go back to the hospital now.” Tony’s voice is softer than usual as he looks over at Jarvis. They both slow to a stop, standing awkwardly in front of the door. Instead of fidgeting and shifting like Tony usually does, he stands completely frozen and rigid.

“Thank you sir. I'll be going now then.” Jarvis mutters solemnly, shifting from one foot to another. He turns to face the front door as if he’s actually going to leave but stops himself before he takes a step towards the door, “You can come too, when you get back from Afghanistan. I think Ana would like that.” But Tony only hums noncommittally. He doesn't even stop to say goodbye to the man, instead ploughing on ahead to his dad's office. Once Tony is far enough away Jarvis looks down at the ground and clear his throat before taking a deep breath in and walking away. Pepper is forced to run after Tony - which is harder than it should be considering the size of his legs.

“You can't keep hiding in your lab forever you know. You need to go visit her, you don't know how long you'll have the chance to.” She mutters knowing full well the reaction he'll have. It's worth the risk though. It was too optimistic of her to expect him to actually talk to the man for once.

“The doctors don't know anything for certain - she’ll be perfectly fine in a few weeks.” Tony says gruffly.

“That's what you said 3 months ago. She's an incredibly strong woman but even she can't just fight off cancer forever.” She pleads, her voice quieting at the thought of the older woman. She hadn’t known Ana well but she could see her in Tony. They say a person is a puzzle made up of all the people in their lives and you could see the Jarvis’ clear as day within Tony. In the soft way he treated his inventions - not the weapons Howard forced him to make but in J.A.R.V.I.S and Dum-E. His equivalent of children.

Three months ago, she’d been there when Maria had sought Tony out in his lab to tell him the news. Try as he might, he can’t erase the tears she’d seen in his eyes. No matter how many times he said she’d get better any day, she just kept getting worse. No matter how much worse she got, he still wouldn’t go visit her - no matter what her, Maria or Jarvis said.

“Why should I even care? She's the butler’s wife.” Tony grumbles - hiding behind his Howard mask.

“You know why Tony. The sooner you stop pretending you don't care about them the sooner you can say what you need to say to her. It's not just her you need to stop pretending not to care about either.” It seems he had something against visiting the hospital. Dodging people he cared about was becoming quite the bad habit. Not once in her time here had he been to visit Peggy Carter despite the pictures he hid around his lab that he thought she didn’t know about.

“I'm not talking about this right now Virginia.” Tony growls. He begins picking up the pace but she keeps up with him with ease.

Neither of them dare speak anymore, not trusting themselves. Only the echoes of their footsteps through the empty halls. Nothing is ever quiet around Tony - even when he’s not talking he’s blaring music loud enough to chase away the quiet - so the experience is surreal. It’s better than the alternative though.

As they arrive in front of the thick, darkened wooden door to Howard’s office Pepper falls back so she’s well behind Tony. If he thinks anything of it, he doesn’t say, instead he grips the door knob with white knuckles. After a few seconds of silent hesitation, he twists the knob and forces himself through the door into Howards office. She watches as his previously stiff, cold exterior melts away into false bravado and casual ease. His Howard suit.

“Tony. You're late.” Howard grumbles from behind his desk. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his files to greet his son. _Typical_.

When he finally looks up he contorts his face into his usual disapproving glare, “What are you wearing? You can’t leave the mansion like that, put on some proper clothes.” Howard growls, scowling at his son. Tony rolls his eyes but he doe as Howard says and turns around to leave the office. Before he can even step through the door, Howard gets up with an overly dramatic sigh, “You know what, we don't have time for this - you'll have to just fix yourself up when we arrive. We’ll have to find some proper clothes for you so you don’t look like a homeless druggie.”

“Whatever.” Tony sighs, not even bothering to turn around the face Howard.

“With all due respect, there's no way Tony can leave right now. He should be resting.” She walks past Tony towards the older man, stopping directly in front of his desk. Tony twists around to face her as she storms past him. He half heartedly reaches out with one hand to catch her arm but barely brushes her skin.

“He's just been resting for the last week, now it's time for him to work for a change.” Howard mutters as he turns back to his files. He hurriedly shoves them all into a huge briefcase to preoccupied with his work to properly register Pepper and Tony’s presence.

“He’s your son not your employee.” She hisses, stepping even closer to the desk. Even Howards can’t ignore her now. Instead he looks up at her with a glare normally reserved for Tony. He slowly stands up so he’s towering over Pepper but she somehow doesn’t feel intimidated in his shadow. _It’s hard to be intimidated by the shadow of a man who will eventually drown in his own sons success._

“Who even are you? I didn't realise Maria had hired a babysitter for Tony.” He hisses vehemently. It’s worse hearing the title from someone else than in her own thoughts. It doesn’t sting as much as it should though. Glorified babysitter or not, she was growing to like Tony.

“I'm a personal assistant to the company but do spend most of my time working for Tony.”

“Doesn't seem like your doing a great job.” Howard’s eyes find Tony’s instead of Peppers this time.

“Leave her alone dad. She'd do a better job running the company than you.” Tony

“She certainly does a better job than you.” Howard scowls, not taking his eyes off of Tony. For a few seconds neither of them dare back down but eventually Tony caves and suddenly becomes incredibly interested in something on his phone.

No one speaks as Howard finishes slowly packing up his things. After a minute of complete silence, he gets up from behind his desk and begins walking towards the door. For a second, Pepper thinks he’s just going to walk straight past her but he suddenly stops when he’s directly next to her. He pauses for a few seconds, dragging out the silence even longer before turning his head to face her ear.

“Well, whatever your name is, my son and I are leaving now so you have until Monday to think about the way you speak to your boss.” He whispers menacingly. Not once does she back down or back away, keeping her chin up and her back straight. No one, especially not Howard Stark will scare her into submission.

“We’re going now.” Howard mutters as he walks past Tony. Tony hums slightly in response but keeps all his focus on his phone. He lets his dad leave first and leisurely trails behind forcing Howard to slow down.

“See you Monday Tony.” She calls out as Tony leaves the room. He holds one hand up in a half wave but doesn't actually say anything.

Watching the two of them walk away, she can’t help but wish for Howard Stark to get what is coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll finally get the whole Avengers team together for the first time (and introduce one more character)
> 
> Not gonna leave any spoilers for Endgame but I thought it was amazing and so sad. I've loved all the Avengers arcs over the last 21 films (especially Tony's) and am excited for the next phase of the story.


	22. Capsicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is called in to meet an old friend

_25/03/2016, 02:03_

_Falling,_

_Falling,_

_Falling._

_He reaches out. Fingers close around air. Nothing but air. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Till the end of the line._

_“It’s the end of the line, Stevie.” He hears Bucky’s voice clear as day. He’s still just about out of Steve’s grip. Every time he tries to get closer, Bucky just falls further away. Always a few centimeters out of reach. So close yet not close enough. Never close enough._

_“You let me fall.” Is the last thing he hears before Bucky fully falls out of reach, crashing down to the ground. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene. Not even as his body hits the ground below in crystal clear detail._

_The sound of the fall is amplified a hundred times over like a bomb shell. Instinctively, he pulls his arms up to try and guard his ears. It’s not just the sound, it's the light too. A huge burst of light blinding him. Forcing his eyes closed even with his arm covering his face. Dirt and rocks crumble over him in a deadly shower. Gun shots ring out on all sides damaging his still ringing ears._

_Cautiously, he peeks out from behind his arm to find the train and the ravine gone. Bucky's body gone. He’s in a forest now - god knows where. People are running past him on all sides, guns at their sides and blood drenching their clothes._

_“Come on! We gotta go!” Someone screeches, knocking into him. Before he can push the person off of him, there’s the crack of a gunshot and the guy becomes dead weight. Carefully, Steve pushes the guy off, seeing him fall limply onto the floor beside him. Blood trickles down his face from a messy, bloody, gaping hole in his forehead. God, Steve remembers him from the barracks. He’d always been so brave and so kind. He’d been there, helping Bucky and the others from the 107th when they woke up screaming every night. He'd helped fetch wet towels to help treat the wounded soldiers._

_The only one younger than Steve in his barack._

_Too young._

_He had a sister and a girl waiting back home._

_A family._

_A life._

_Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from vomiting at the sight of it. The blood trickling into the boys bright green eyes. Vomit and rotting flesh blend together into one potent smell._

_“You did this.” Bucky suddenly mutters from beside Steve. Just like the others, he's drenched in blood. He’s missing his left arm - it’s been messily torn from his shoulder without any care or mercy. It’s hard to tell what's blood and what’s mud anymore._

_“You really thought it would end?” Bucky says with a quiet fury only he ever had, “You never could walk away from a fight, could you? Never. And it’s going to kill everyone.”_

_Sure enough, everyone has fallen. There’s no one left._

_No one but Peggy who’s dancing slowly amongst the rubble and dead bodies._

_“Did you forget about our dance?” She asks quietly, smiling with her lips as red as blood._

_Bucky was right. He never would be able to leave._

Steve jumps up drenched in sweat. It’s still dark in his room. The curtains aren’t drawn but they might as well be. Inky black swirls beyond the window. The only indication that there is anything except darkness beyond the black are the small dim lights flickering from the labs the next building over. At least one of the labs was always in use over there. They made for good night lights when he woke up from nightmares. Like stars but closer.

“Just a dream.” He mutters to himself. He could tell himself that a million times everyday and he still wouldn’t believe a word of it. Even now, he can hear the sounds of the gun shots ricocheting. It’s as if he never left the battlefield.

“Just a dream.” He mutters again. It sounds no more true this time than it did the time before. He gently massages his temple, hoping it’ll quell the ringing but it does absolutely nothing.

Quietly, he slips out of his bed. He’s completely awake now. Even of he wanted to go back to sleep he couldn’t. Instead he pads over to the door and slips out into the common room. If he’s up he might as well get a drink. Somehow his throat still feels raw and a painful as if he’d actually thrown up even though he knows that was just in the dream.

As quietly as possible, he starts warming up some milk in a pan. Many of the other residents are notoriously light sleepers so any sound Steve makes, even from out in the common room, could wake them up. While the milk is warming he forages around in the cupboard for the cocoa powder and cinnamon.

_Bucky would’ve loved the hot chocolate here._

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a quick movement. It’s enough to snap him out of his thoughts, even if it was a miniscule movement. The door to Wanda’s room is open a crack. It’s no much but it’s more than it was a few seconds ago.

“You can come out if you want.” Steve whispers, still trying to stay as quiet as possible. Everything else is so quiet even his whisper sounds like a shout.

For a few seconds there's nothing. No movement. No sound. He almost thinks he might’ve imagined the movement or perhaps she decided leaving her little space was a bad idea. Then the door finally opens just enough for Wanda to slip out into the room.

She really is a tiny thing. While their training it can be easy to forget how small she is but there’s no way to hide it now. She's only four years younger than him but her eyes are years younger than the rest of her. Despite everything she must’ve been through there’s a vulnerability that he’s unused to seeing when he surrounds himself with hardened S.H.I.E.L.D agents and ex-convicts.

She keeps her back to the wall as she slowly makes her way towards the kitchen table. When she finally reaches the chair she hesitates, looking from the chair in front of her to Steve. Meekly, she reaches up and brushes some loose strands of hair out of her face - tucking them diligently behind her ear.

“You can take a seat if you want.” He says, slightly louder than before. She nods ever so slightly and takes a seat. Even after all that, she’s still only just perched on the edge of the seat. Her hand is shaking ever so slightly. He’d never have noticed it if he wasn’t shaking himself.

“You know, my friend used to make me a cocoa ever time I woke up from a nightmare. He wouldn’t say anything, he would just get up and make one. We’d sit on my bed silently and drink until the memory of the dream started to fade enough to sleep.” Steve mutters, stirring the hot chocolate. Wanda shuffles, taking in a breath as if she’s trying to think about what to say next.

“That sounds nice.” She whispers after a minute or so of complete silence. Her voice is nothing more than a breath. As small as she is.

“It was.” He tries to smile but can’t muster the strength even for that, “You want some?” He asks as he starts grabbing mugs from the cupboard. She nods cautiously from her little perch.

Neither of them say anything again until Steve has finished pouring out their drinks into their respective cups. Technically, he’d only made enough for himself but they could easily just have half as much drink. It was a worthy exchange.

He carefully places the dirty pan next to the sink, ready for someone to clean it up in the morning. He would do it himself now but turning on the water was bound to at least wake Natasha. It could wait a few hours to be cleaned.

Cautiously, he slides one of the mugs across the table to Wanda. Uncertainly, he takes the seat opposite her but she doesn't say anything so he decides to stay seated. She’s settled into her seat more now, not just perched like she was before. Her hands cradle the mug tentatively, savouring the warmth.

“It’s strange not having Bucky here it drink it with. Feels wrong.” Steve mutters. It burns but he still takes a sip of the drink. Worth the risk. It's always best when it's hot, even if it does burn.

“I’m still not used to being so far away from Pietro. Ever since mom and dad died we’ve spent every night together. It’s been hard getting used to not having him around. I know he’s just in the next room but I can’t help it.” She whispers softly, taking a sip of her own drink. She flinches slightly as it burns the inside of her mouth but she doesn’t set the drink down. Her hands keep cradling it. Protecting it.

“Is that what you dream about? Losing him?” Steve probes carefully. He should probably leave it alone but some people feel better after talking about these things. If that’s what she needs then he’ll give it to her. It’s the least he can do.

She shakes her head and pauses. Neither of them are sure whether she’s going to continue. When she finally speaks she seems to even surprise herself, “Sometimes I dream about the bomb that-" She shakes slightly, her eyes watering, "About the days we spent under the bed waiting for it to kill us. But normally I dream about everything that happened after that. About the people that used to throw rocks at us for being mutants. They were always so scared of us, no matter what we did to try and help them.” She whispers breathily. Tears prick up in her eyes as she stares down into the dark liquid within her mug. Whatever she’s seeing in there is tying her down to this moment. Keeping her from drowning in her own memories.

“You’d think I’d dream about the war most but in reality, my dreams are usually about Bucky. He fell from a train a month or so before I went under the ice.” Steve explains. He’s still not entirely sure how much of his life is common knowledge - the fact any of it is this famous still surprises him. Bucky’s sacrifice at least must be common knowledge because she nods along with him, understanding exactly what he’s talking about.

“How do you deal with them?” She finally looks up from her drink to properly look at Steve. Her wide eyes plead with him. For the first time he sees the dark bags framing her eyes. Testaments to her night time struggles. He only wishes he could give her some actual advice but he still hasn’t figured out how to deal with it all himself. It's hard to give advice when you're in the same predicament, especially if you want that advice to actually be helpful.

“Come with me.” He mutters, lost in his own thoughts. He might not know how to cope with these dreams - memories - himself but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing he can do.

He quietly gets up from his chair, bringing his mug with him. For a second, he’s not sure whether she’s going to follow him but eventually she pushes out from under the table and stands up to join him. Her own mug is also clutched in her hands protectively as she follows him to his room. He gently pushes on his door, letting it swing open on it's own. Wanda hesitates for a second at the door but follows him in anyway. Once she’s in the room he reaches over and flicks on the bedroom light. Both of them wince and cover their eyes for a few seconds as their eyes try to adapt to the sudden change.

“It’s beautiful.” Wanda mutters, her eyes now open and fixed on the wall in front of her, “You did this all yourself?” She runs her hand along the painting on the wall. Tracing every shape with a gentle touch.

“It’s a good way to keep busy.” Keeping busy was one way of putting it. Slowly he’d been filling the wall with small designs that looped together like vines.

While she’s examining the art, he reaches into his desk and retrieves his paint set. It was the first thing he asked for and - except for clothes - remains the only thing. The one thing he owns in this world. Without speaking, he hands her the paint set and one of his two paint brushes.

“Everytime the memories come back and I start thinking they’ll never go away I come here. I paint the things that are still good in this world. The things that give me a reason to keep going. The things that make me happy.” He explains. The paintings had started out small and meaningless, a meadow of flowers skirting the bottom of the wall and has slowly grown into something else. His shield appeared in the corner of the meadow, encased in flowers. Bucky’s eyes sprung up amongst the flowers. Games he’d played as a child and old things he'd had scattered around his house cropped up amongst it all too. Somehow he’d found himself painting Natasha’s necklace. The way it glinted as they sunbathed out on the grass.

“It works?” She whispers hopefully.

“I don’t think anything does, but it does make you remember.” Instinctively, his eyes find Bucky’s amongst the meadow of memories. Any memory, even a painted one, helps. No matter how dumb it sounds.

“I can’t paint.” She turns to him, trying to hand the paintbrush back. She’s biting her lower lip, her fingers curled around the wooden brush delicately with a tenderness only Steve had ever shown.

“You gotta start somewhere.” He pushes the brush back towards her chest. For a few seconds she keeps the brush pressed against her chest, lost in her own thoughts. Then she opens the paints and dips her brush in the silver paint, humming quietly to herself.

Neither of them speak again. He doesn’t ask about the twisting red and silver ribbons she’s painting across the border and she doesn’t ask about the dog tags he is drawing looping around her ribbons. Other than the sound of the building around them, the only sound is Wanda’s humming.

The quiet is infinitely better that the pulsing of bombs.

Steve agrees.

~~~

25/03/2016, 18:42

They were back in the training room again, a place they seemed to spend most their time. From what Steve had seen, it was a big academy with a lot of students so he was surprised so much time was allocated to their little group. It had become painfully clear that the skill levels varied quite dramatically through the group. While Bobbi, Natasha and Clint clearly knew more hand to hand combat than Steve could ever learn, Scott, Wanda and Pietro were still lacking.

“Try holding your fist like this.” He reaches over and adjusts Wanda’s fist tentatively. She loosens her fist slightly so he can make sure every finger is in the right position, “See, now your thumb is protected.” She nods along enthusiastically.

He'd thought he would've been tired after sleeping so little last night but somehow he feels more rejuvenated than normal. Neither him nor Wanda had gone back to sleep again. They'd stayed in Steve's room painting until Bobbi woke up and brewed the first coffee of the day at six in the morning. It hadn't been the most productive day in terms of actually painting but spending more time with Wanda had been nice. If he'd been paired with Wanda before last night he doesn't know how it would've gone but they've actually made a lot of progress this session. Especially when it comes to working together.

It had been a strange couple of days since waking but the new world was slowly becoming less intimidating. It felt much longer than five days. Bobbi had been tasked with inducing him into S.H.I.E.L.D life which had surprisingly been the easiest part of the transition. Turns out S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't all that different to his time in the army but there were considerably less deaths and more secrets.

Bruce and Scott had done their best teaching him how to use modern technology. It had taken a while at first but once you suspend all disbelief it becomes much easier to pick up. Having a phone in his pocket would take some getting used to but he was getting there. Maybe one day it would even feel normal.

The team had wasted no time filling up his notebook with a list of film, books and TV shows he was beginning to think he would never finish. Out of all of them, Natasha seemed to have to most to say. Her supply of books was apparently infinite. As far as he knew, only Clint had ever been in her room, but he can imagine how many bookshelves she must have tucked away in there to accommodate all her books. Every time he finished one she'd have another on hand to give to him - not that he had finished many of the books yet. There wasn't much free time between all the group film or games nights and training sessions.

Steve is snapped out of his thoughts by a loud thud as Pietro hits the floor once again. He doesn't get up instantly like he normally does, staying lying on the floor bruised and sweaty.

“Too impatient. You need to wait for the right moment to attack.” Natasha holds her arm out to help Pietro back up onto his feet. He pouts and flares up red but doesn't say anything. It's the fifteenth time this session and he looks no happier than all the times before.

“Okay we should probably wrap up now.” Steve shouts over the sounds of the others sparring. Next to him Wanda relaxes, dropping her arms to her sides and panting. As usual, her brother is almost a mirror image. It's kind of creepy really. Although they're not identical, their movements and mannerisms are so similar you could confuse them for one person.

“I can totally keep going.” Scott pants from his puddle on the floor. Unluckily for him, he ended up paired with Clint who seemingly has no mercy. Dude can hold a grudge - even if it is in jest.

“Sure you can.” Hope drawls as she takes a long swig from her water bottle.

“Well I can't, Fury wants me to greet his guests.” The call had come last minute. That very day in fact. As usual, Fury had given no more detail than was absolutely necessary which was nothing more than a place and a time. Didn't matter where he washed up, he was doomed to always be someone's show pony.

“We should stop anyway, they'll be wanting to use this room soon and I'd rather not have to share the changing rooms with the other trainees.” Bobbi sighs going to grab her water bottle as well.

A few of the others also move to grab their bottles while Wanda and Scott stay still, trying to catch their breath. He might've also stayed to grab a drink with them but they'd already over run with their training and he couldn't afford to be late getting to the meeting with Fury. He'd have to just go straight to the meeting after getting changed. He could grab a drink in the office or something.

“Do you need help with the directions?” Natasha asks, walking alongside Steve. Despite her height, she has no issue keeping up with him.

“I’m meeting him in the Science building this time.” Being called to greet a guest was strange enough but being called to meet a guest in the science building was even stranger. Since Fury’s office was in the Operations building almost all of his meetings went on here.

“I know.” She mutters with a smirk. He’d learnt not to question how she knows these by now. It saved a lot of time.

“That would be helpful.” He smiles, relieved. Getting used to one huge building had been hard enough but the academy was spread across three buildings. Most of the team still hadn’t gone into the Communications branch and their combined knowledge of the Science building wasn’t much better. The only reason any of them had even a vague idea of the building was because Bruce stayed there. Every time they wanted to call upon him they’d be forced to hunt for him throughout the many labs in the building.

“Meet me here in 5.” She mutters, splitting off from him to go into the women’s changing rooms. Out of all of the people in the group, they were the fastest at getting changed - even Pietro struggled to get changed faster without tearing all his clothes and getting himself tied up. Under no circumstances did you want to get stuck waiting for Scott to get changed, especially not when him and Hope had their suits on. Pym really didn’t take ease of changing into consideration when he was making them.

Not wanting to keep Natasha waiting, he slips into the changing room and starts undressing. Like the others, he’d been outfitted with a standard edition S.H.I.E.L.D training gear. It was nothing flashy but it was comfortable enough. Despite that, he couldn’t help wishing he had his own suit back. He might not have always had the fondest memories with it but it had been a part of him for so long. It felt...wrong to not be wearing it while he fought.

Still half undressed, he begins rummaging through his locker in search of his clean clothes. It probably would’ve been better to shower before going to meet someone with Fury but there’s not enough time for that. He’d just have to hope he didn’t smell too bad. For the most part the training session had been spent teaching Wanda the correct stances and moves so he hadn’t been doing the heavy lifting himself. Not like the other had been.

The clothes aren’t anything special but they’re the nicest he has. Whoever had brought the clothes for him clearly hadn’t gone beyond the S.H.I.E.L.D academy gift shop (if they had one of those) because every single item of clothes had the logo on them. You’d think a top secret organisation wouldn’t want to advertise themselves on all their clothes but apparently not. A huge amount of funding appears to go into making branded produce. Even the water bottles had the signature eagle on it. How no one knew about S.H.I.E.L.D was beyond him.

The others are only just coming into the changing room as he is leaving. Clint is leading the pack, dripping in sweat and somehow still smelling like his metal arrows. Scott follows behind him, beaming despite his bruised, sweaty body. Unlike Scott, Pietro hadn’t taken the hits particularly well - perhaps Natasha hadn’t been the best choice to train him.

“You headed off already?” Clint asks before Steve can pass him.

“Yeah, Natasha is helping me find the office and she’s not one for waiting around.” Clint knuckles and nods his head.

“That’s one way of putting it. You coming back for dinner?”

“Fury didn’t say but I assume so.”

“You might want to pick up some food on the way back - Bobbi is cooking tonight. I’d rather have the canteen food than her poison.” They’d been trying to cook more themselves, taking it in turns to cook. Supposed to be good for team building but so far it was ending with a lot of last minute trips to the canteen to try and sneak food out to their flat without anyone noticing.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve chuckles, overly conscious of the clock ticking. By now Natasha must be out and waiting.

“See you later then!” Scott calls out tiredly as Steve walks past the little huddle to go meet Natasha.

Sure enough she’s already out there and waiting. If you were to guess which one of the two was going off to a special meeting by looking at them you’d definitely have to guess Natasha. Then again, when wouldn’t you. She’s dolled up in a smart black dress and somehow she’s fixed her hair into a neat braid despite her time restraints.

“You’re late.” She mutter playfully. Neither of them waste any time getting moving. Since waking up, his muscles haven’t stopped aching. Every time he seems to have recovered he goes straight back to the training room and bruises them all again. It’s become so commonplace now that he almost feels that same as he used to before the serum.

“Ran into the boys on the way out.” He explains.

“Clint tell you to try and steal food from the canteen?” She asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah. Don’t know how I’ll manage it but I’m sure I’ll find a way.” So far no one had successfully managed to sneak food out of the room except Banner and Natasha, a record they’d all tried to break. The more times they tried the harder it got to sneak away the food. Even the vents were now heavily guarded after Clint dropped out of them in an attempt to grab himself a cookie.

“You gonna flash your baby blues?” She smirks.

“Don’t think my _baby blues_ are a viable plan.” Steve chuckles. The chefs in the canteen weren’t the type to succumb to bribery or favoritism - at least not in Steve’s experience. Who knew how they reacted to Banner and Natasha.

Natasha’s phone buzzes suddenly, demanding her attention. She quickly whips it out from some hidden pocket somewhere on her dress and begins texting someone. It must be a damn long text because she’s still typing as they enter the Science building. Part of Steve wants to peer over her shoulder to inspect the text but he doesn’t. She of all people deserves her privacy. If she wanted to tell Steve what she was writing she would. Even with her attention split between the phone and the real world she is able to accurately navigate them through the twisting corridors. It’s not until they’re deep into the heart of the building that she finally puts her phone away.

“What were you doing?” He asks, unsure whether she will respond or not.

“Ordering a pizza.” She states with complete finality. If anyone could order a pizza to the academy it would be Natasha.

“You want to explain how?” Steve asks, knowing it’s a pointless question.

Natasha slows to a stop in front of one of the solid, non glass doors. It wouldn’t normally stand out if it wasn’t for the fact that every other door along the corridor is glass and looks into a lab. Only now does Steve realise he never told her what room the meeting was being held in.

“See you later for pizza!” Natasha smiles mischievously as she starts backing away down the corridor leaving him to deal with Fury alone. He knew it was too much to hope Natasha would be coming in with him. Apparently this was something he had to do alone.

He waits until Natasha has completely gone out of sight before he opens to the door to Fury’s office. He’s still a few minutes early but it can’t do any harm to come in early. Especially not when you’re dealing with Fury.

Strangely, the inside of the room hardly looks any different to Fury’s office. The only furniture in the room is a desk in front of a huge window and a chair to one side of the room, yet it feels just like Fury’s office in the Operations building. Even Fury hasn’t changed. He’s still hidden behind his desk, absorbed in whatever paperwork keeps the director of S.H.I.E.L.D constantly busy.

“Director Fury.” Steve stands to attention in front of the desk. It might not be Fury’s actual desk but you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. Even here he’s completely engrossed in his files. As usual he’s choosing to ignore Steve’s presence entirely. There’s a chair to one side of the room but it’s currently occupied by a ginger cat that Steve has no intention of displacing.

So far he’d only had two meetings with the director of S.H.I.E.L.D since waking up. Most of what he knew about the man came from Natasha. Perhaps it's because he’s the director of a secret government organisation or just because Steve had never had a full conversation with him but he couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. Try as he might, something was off about the whole situation.

“Rogers.” Fury addresses him as he finally looks up from his work, “How are you settling in?” He pushes the paperwork to the other side of the desk and leans back in his chair casually.

“It’s been okay - still getting used to things but I’m getting there.” Steve attempts to relax his stance the way Fury is but he remains as rigid as ever. Maybe his army training will never leave him. Maybe that doesn’t matter.

“Good.” Fury sighs, fiddling with a pen. He stays sat in his chair silently, watching Steve curiously. He can’t help but shift from foot to foot uncomfortable under his intense stare.

“All due respect sir, I don’t see why I’m needed here.” Steve looks around the almost completely unfurnished office. If Fury was hoping the sight of Steve would make whoever this guest was more agreeable then he was sorely mistaken. He would join Fury’s task force - be his soldier - but he refuses to go back to being the show horse.

“I had to call an old colleague in to discuss some SHIELD business and I thought you might want to meet them.” Fury mutters daring Steve to press on. He’s not exactly smiling but Steve is fairly sure it's the closest the man could ever come to a smile.

“You really can’t tell me who it is?” Steve takes a step closer to the desk and crosses his arms. He already knows what the answer will be but he might as well ask anyway.

“I could.” Is all Fury says. There’s a finality that warns Steve he’ll get nothing more out of the conversation. Sometimes him and Natasha were too similar for their own good. Once again, they fall into a steady silence. Is it possible to have a comfortable moment around the director of S.H.I.E.L.D? Every conversation ends in an awkward silence around him.

Eventually he shifts his gaze towards the huge window behind the desk. Slowly, he walks over to it so he’s standing on the same side of the desk as Fury. There’s no sign of any cars or other vehicles on drive outside the academy. Cars rarely drive down here since it’s a secret academy but the few guests that do arrive on campus always park outside the front of the building.

“They’re running a bit late aren’t they.” Steve mutters, moving even closer to the window. Everyone below them looks like figurines in a doll's house. Say what you want about Fury but you can’t deny he knows how to choose a view.

“He’s always late. Our meeting was actually scheduled for 30 minutes ago because I knew he would be late.” Fury sighs, sitting up in his chair ever so slightly. He hadn’t even met the guy and he was already pissed off by him. What kind of person turns up to a meeting forty minutes late?

Before Steve gets a chance to respond, the door to the office opens. A man in a neatly pressed suit steps out into the office, clutching a stack of files with a pair of sunglasses tucked in his pocket.

“Director Fury.” The man addresses Fury but his eyes are fixed directly on Steve. He looks nothing like the person Steve had been imagining. He looks...sweeter. It doesn’t make Steve’s presence here any clearer.

“Agent Coulson.” The man grins dopily, holding his hand out to Steve. Coulson...that name sounds familiar... Nonetheless, Steve steps towards the man and takes his hand. He's got a strong grip for an unenhanced person. Especially considering how he looks.

“Steve Rogers.” He says politely, forcing a smile.

“I know. I have all your vintage trading cards.” Coulson mutters, still adamantly shaking Steves hand. He considers pulling away but the man isn’t exactly threatening. What's the harm in shaking his hand for a little longer than normal?

“Trading cards…?” Something about trading cards rings a bell, “Ah yes, Agent Coulson. Natasha and Clint mentioned you.” Steve smiles as Coulson finally lets go of his hand. Both had spoken highly of the man but this wasn't exactly what he'd expected. The kind of respect they'd had for the man had invoked a more intimidating image. This man was more like a dad than a secret agent.

“Agent Coulson is Agent Romanoff and Barton’s handler.” Fury explains briefly before moving on, “Is he on his way?” Fury asks gruffly. 

“The jet landed a couple of minutes ago. Agent Hill is bring them down.” Coulson turns away from Steve and gives Fury his full attention. So Coulson’s not the guest he’s here to greet then. Just another messenger. He'd seen agent Hill around the academy several times. She was one of the younger agents - an intern of some kind for Fury.

“Them? He brought the kid?” Fury mutters. A kid? What sort of meeting was this? He'd been expecting some kind of business partner of high up authority figure but he was less sure with every bit of information he learnt about the guy. 

“Unavoidable apparently. He was very displeased with the situation himself.” Coulson says apologetically.

“We’ll have to sort out arrangements for him.” Fury sighs.

“I’ll find a room for him.” Coulson says, looking down at his files.

“Hold off on that for now.” Fury holds his finger to stop Coulson’s train of thoughts, looking straight at Steve.

“I’ll talk to -” Coulson starts but is quickly cut off by the door to the office opening once again. They all quietly twist around to look at the new arrivals. 

“Fury?” A man calls out, stepping through the doorway. He’s shortly followed by Agent Hill who seems to have been completely disregarded by the guest. He’s an older man with white hair and a white mustache. Those sharp brown eyes he’d recognise anywhere though.

“Howard?” Steve frowns, looking the man over. There’s no mistaking him for the young kid Steve once knew. He’s decades older and more worn but he’s the same person alright. Howard had been like a little brother in some ways. He’d been there throughout Project Rebirth and had assisted the Howling Commandos so many times. Steve would’ve died a million times over without the boys technological assistance.

“Steve Rogers! Wow, I didn’t believe Fury when he told me but he was actually telling the truth.” Howard smiles, walking forward to hug Steve. He’s still shorter than post serum Steve but feels larger than life in a way Steve never could manage. Not even as Captain America.

“You grew.” Steve chuckles, shocked. It’s like being hit in the face with all the years he missed. It's easier to pretend no time passed when you aren't looking straight at the embodiment of those years.

“You didn’t.” Howard smiles, stepping away to give him some space, “I spent years searching for you and then Fury locates you first time.” He chuckles to himself. There's a slight bitterness to the words but Steve writes them off quickly. 

Suddenly someone scoffs loudly beside Howard. Steve shifts slightly to get a better look and spots a teenage boy next to Howard that he hadn’t noticed before. It’s like looking back in time at a younger Howard. He’s smaller than Howard and has slightly more olive skin but both share the same deep brown hair and the same face shape. The boys features are slightly softer and warmer in places but there's no mistaking him for anything but Howard's kid.

Despite their similarities in appearance, the way they hold themselves is completely differently. Even back in the war, Howard had always kept himself neat and well groomed which clearly wasn’t something his son shared. Where Howards hair is neatly combed back and gelled, his sons is a messy birds nest with hints of oil on the tips. While Howard is dressed up nicely in a suit and tie, his son wears an old, baggy long sleeved navy shirt. There’s a pair of hot rod red sunglasses concealing his eyes even though he’s indoors.

“Sorry we were so late, Tony took his time getting off his arse to get ready.” Howard sighs, glaring at his son - Tony. Either the boy doesn’t hear the jab or he doesn’t care because he doesn’t react at all. He’s completely focused on his phone, his headphones in his ears despite the situation.

Steve walks past Howard to stand in front of the other teenager. The guy might seem like an arse but Steve's mother raised him better than that. 

“Hi, I’m - ”

“Steven Grant Rogers. Yeah, I know. I thought you were supposed to be doing time as a Capsicle.” Tony grumbles. There’s the same swagger about him that Howard used to have bit it’s more bitter.

“Tony.” Howard growls, glaring daggers at his son. Tony rolls his eyes and just turns back to his phone. He struts straight over to the chair the cat is on and takes a seat. The cat jumps off and runs over to the desk as it sees Tony coming, relinquishing it's seat to the newcomer. Once he’s claimed the seat he leans back and closes his eyes.

“Ignore him, he’s a brat.” Howard grumbles, “I wouldn’t have brought him but we need to head straight off to Afghanistan tomorrow after this.” He sighs, looking more exhausted than ever. As a kid he had boundless energy and enthusiasm but it’s clear the years have drained a lot from him.

“Afghanistan?” He’d seen on one of the documentaries Hope recommended that talked about the state of Afghanistan. Despite what they'd all thought during world war 2, the world really can’t go without a war. Not exactly a family vacation spot.

“I’m training Tony to take over the company so he’s coming to a weapons showcase tomorrow. We’ll have to see if he can keep himself together for the whole event.” Steve spots Tony rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eye. Whatever he’s playing on his earphones must be quiet because he seems to be able to hear everything being said.

“Howard runs Stark Industries which is the biggest weapons manufacturer in the world.” Agent Hill leans over and whispers. He can’t say he’s particularly surprised. He’d always known Howard would do something great with his life. His weapons always had been top of the range. Heck, he’d made Steve’s shield.

“As nice as this is, we should probably get to business.” Howard straightens his back and clears his throat. Fury nods and stands up straight.

“Howard and Tony are staying over tonight. Howard has somewhere to stay but Tony will have to stay in one of the spare rooms in the flat.” Fury addresses Steve directly. He nods along, processing his orders. Who knows how the others will react to the set up but it’s not for long so it shouldn’t be an issue.

“Okay. What time will you and Howard be finished tomorrow?” Steve turns to Howard, expecting him to have a clearer idea than Fury.

“Not too late - before midday. We’ll come by the flat when we’re done.” They don’t have to play host to the younger stark for very long then.

Steve nods curtly before turning to the other boy who’s still lying back in the chair. It’s clear he’s heard everything that was said but he shows no sign of moving. In fact, he already looks half asleep in the chair.

“Stark?” Steve says, placing a hand on the half asleep boys shoulder. He lazily tries to bat away Steve’s hand, glaring daggers.

“I heard.” He grumbles and slowly begins to force himself up out of his chair. He throws a look towards Howard as he leaves but doesn’t say anything. In turn, Howard looks anywhere but at Tony.

Tony leaves the room first, not bothering to wait for Steve. He starts moving down the hallway with such purpose Steve would think he owned the place. He’s almost completely certain the boy has no clue where he’s going but apparently it’s too much of a hassle to wait for Steve to lead him. Fortunately Tony has short legs and Steve is a super soldier so it doesn’t take long for Steve to catch up to Tony again.

“We going to see your super magic boy band then.” Tony mutters, the headphones still in his ears. Now he’s next to the boy it doesn’t sound like there’s actually any music playing.

“We’re a task force.” Steve hisses

“Taskforce, boy band same thing in my book.”

“How do you even know about the Avengers?” Steve frowns. The Avengers were supposed to be top secret - S.H.I.E.L.D’s secret weapon. Fury doesn’t seem the type to go spill everything to a kid like Tony.

“Howard was one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D, I’ve overheard a lot of interesting things.” _Interesting things_. Does he even care if he endangers agents? That kind of information could get people killed and here he is acting like it doesn’t matter. Instead of reacting to him, Steve holds his head up high and focuses on getting them to the flat where hopefully he’ll just stay in his room until Howard comes to get him.

As soon as they turn down the hallway with the labs Tony perks up. He slows down considerably and begins peeking through the windows to get a better look at the gadgets. Without his sunglasses on, Steve can finally get a better look at him. He’d been expecting to see Howard’s eyes staring back at him but he doesn’t. They're still brown but the brown is softer. Warmer. They light up as they look at all the technology in the room. For a second it reminds him of Howard when he was young but it’s not quite the same. It’s pure, undiluted fascination. You can practically see the wheels turning in his brain.

“What’s this place?” He asks without the usual hostility.

“The Science and Technology academy. They do all the tech and weapons development.” He explains, stopping next to Tony, “We should probably get going. We’re supposed to be headed to the Operations building, not stopping here.” It probably doesn’t matter considering how Tony eavesdrops on top secret potentially life threatening secrets. Doesn’t mean he should be giving Tony a free pass to the labs.

“Come on, we’ve got hours until Howard remembers I exist. We should take a peak.” Tony wiggles his eyebrows and puts his sunglasses back on.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Steve says wearily but Tony isn’t listening again. He’s pulled out his headphones and tucked them into his pocket with his phone. Once again, he’s filled with purpose, striding through the hallway.

“You can’t just stroll in here and start messing around with all the labs.” Steve chides him. People might normally let him do whatever he wants but that doesn’t mean Steve has to. Howard might’ve been a friend but that doesn’t give Tony a free pass, no matter what he thinks.

“Why not?” He challenges, smirking slightly. Doesn’t he take anything seriously?

“Because they’re high tech labs, not a playground for when you get bored.”

“Anywhere can be a playground if you’re playing.” Tony grins mischievously. God Steve has never felt more like punching anyone and he used to get into fights in Brooklyn’s back alleys.

Tony quickly turns on his heels and stops in front of a steel door completely different to all the other doors. Carefully, he taps on the door and listens, lost in his own little world. He quickly darts to one side and begins looking at the locking mechanism.

“Tony!” Steve hisses, grabbing Tony’s hand and pushing him against the door, “You can’t just go around breaking into places. We’re supposed to be going back to the flat so that’s what we’re doing.”

“You mean to tell me you really don’t want to explore? You’ve been trapped under ice for what, seventy years, and you really don’t want to check out all the cool gadgets.” Tony raises one eyebrow and starts fiddling with his sleeve.

“I’m not going to break the law and start sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.” There’s a sudden beep as the door’s locking mechanism unlocks, letting the door open a crack.

“What are you doing?” Steve lets go of Tony’s arm and looks over at the lock mechanism. Just like most of the other doors in the academy, it’s got a key card lock so only students and agents can unlock the doors. Somehow he’s made a tiny little metal device that must act in the same way as the key card because it’s pressed against the mechanism and is unlocking it.

“Sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.” Without Steve’s hand gripping him, he slips by and sneaks into the room beyond.

The sign above the door says boiler room but there’s no way, even in the future, that this is a boiler room. At least not a normal one. Lights are flashing brightly, shining various different colours. Music is playing making the whole room sound more like a club than a boiler room.

“You sure you don’t wanna come Capsicle?” Tony asks, stopping just over the threshold.

“You’re not roping me into whatever you’re doing.” Steve shakes his head. How does Howard handle him? Judging from their earlier interactions it doesn’t seem like he does handle him.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be sure to drop by your top secret boy band laire later.” Tony holds one arm, flashing a peace sign. Without his hand holding the door open, the door closes. Steve tries to grab ahold of the door to keep it open but he just misses it. There’s the familiar beep as the door seals itself again.

“For gods sake…” He mutters, pulling out his keycard and pressing it against the lock. It flashes red, denying him access, “Just brilliant…” He sighs.

He’s so screwed….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being wayyyyyy too long (I mean way to long) so I've cut it in half. I wasn't going to add the interaction between Steve and Wanda but I kinda wanted to build on their relationship a bit more.
> 
> I've kinda always imagined this as a bit of a Tony centric story in my head but in a reality we're a third of the way through the story and still haven't had a chapter from Tony's point of view. I know Pietro also hasn't had a POV yet. I've been trying to find a place for him but so far haven't found an opportunity to. Hopefully I will find some time before the events of Avengers kick off.


	23. Boiler Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony visits the boiler room and runs into some interesting personalities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter was cut from the end of the last one it ended up being a bit short of 5,000 words so I added another little section from Loki's PoV to the end. Hopefully it should explain what happened instead of the events in the first Thor film.

_25/03/2016, 19:30_

Maybe he should’ve listened to Pepper after all. He’d never admit it to her, but he felt like a zombie. Sleeping on the jet definitely was one of her better ideas but it’s too late now. At least when he was in his lab back home he had an unlimited supply of coffee on hand but he had yet to see a single mug of coffee since entering the S.H.I.E.L.D academy. Even here in the boiler room - whatever this place is - there doesn’t seem to be any coffee. He’d thought Nicky at least would have some coffee. He’d always seemed like a coffee guy in the past.

The blaring lights of the boiler room weren’t helping. Clearly he’d stumbled into something more interesting than a lab. He’d thought he’d heard some noises coming from behind the door but this certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. During his time at MIT he’d been to his fair share of parties but this was a whole other level. Nerds really knew how to party.

It was clear that the room had once been a boiler room as the name suggests but the students must’ve spent years renovating it to make it into this. The entrance is a floor above the rest of the room. It overlooks a sprawling room filled with people, lights and music. There's something new to look at in every direction. Clearly they spared no expense when setting the room up.

Cautiously, Tony moves over to the glass barrier that keeps people from falling into the lower part of the room. Despite all the lights, it’s nearly impossible to see anything. There’s a bar of some kind down the bottom with people crowded around it. A group of people are laughing, surrounding a pool table with cues in their hands. It’s surprising that anyone can move amongst the rabble, it looks like one continuous sea of people.

The good captain might be waiting to take him to meet the super secret boy band but this was so much better. If the Captain was anything to go by, the team weren't the sort of crowd Tony tended to hang out with. All regime and self-righteousness. It wasn’t like Howard cared where Tony went anyway. Dear old dad had given up caring years ago - if he’d ever cared at all. Nothing mattered so long as he wasn’t in Howard's way. It was the truce they'd come to after years of arguing. 

Hoping the sunglasses would be enough to conceal his identity, he slips down the stairs to join the rabble of SHIELD students gathered beneath him. Soon he realises that he didn't need to worry, the darkness was doing a great job at concealing what little of him was visible. He’s jostled from side to side as he weaves through the crowd but luckily, for once, his size is a blessing. Most of the others are taller than him and hardly even notice him slipping between them, trying to get to the bar. No one stops him or seems to recognise him, too wrapped up in their own lives to care about the smaller teen. No one even looks at him until he sits down at the bar.

“Can I get you anything?” The older boy asks from behind the bar. He must be in his early twenties, a bar rag over one shoulder and bubblegum in his mouth. It’s not the most hygienic but who’s he to judge. Can’t do much worse than drink motor oil coffee.

“What you got?” Tony sighs. The boy looks up from the bar and takes in Tony. Instinctively, Tony finds himself pushing his sunglasses further up his face to cover his eyes better. They’re the only things hiding the bags under his eyes. Normally he might use makeup to cover them when he’s going out in public but he hadn’t exactly been given much time to get ready. Besides, he knew Howard didn’t approve of the method.

“How old are you kid?” The guy frowns. Most of the students he’d seen so far were at legal drinking age but he had seen some younger students closer to his age. He’d really been hoping they wouldn’t care about his age. Maybe he'd been too hopeful.

“What’s it to you?” He asks grouchily. No one here is any fun. Just when he'd thought S.H.I.E.L.D students were going to pleasantly surprise him as well.

“Here.” The guy slides a can of coke across the bar to Tony. Really? Coke? It was times like this he missed MIT. At least there he could get himself a drink without jumping through unnecessary hoops. 

“Whatever.” He sighs, opening the can carefully. It fizzes loudly but luckily doesn’t over spill. Coke is better than nothing he supposes. At least it’ll get rid of the taste of oil in his mouth.

“Come on Banner, have a go.” Someone calls out from the pool table behind him. Banner...he’d heard that name before.

“Yeah Bruce! Take the shot.” Another voice joins in. Tony quickly turns around to inspect the group hanging around the pool table. They’re all younger students, slightly older than Tony but still not quite of drinking age. _Somehow they all have beers though_ Tony thinks bitterly.

“I really don’t think - ” A younger boy mutters nervously. One of the older boy claps his back and hands him the pool cue, displacing the boys glasses slightly. He fumbles with the glasses, trying to compose himself once again but he’s being jostled too much to properly keep his glasses on. Every time he pushes them up someone knocks into him and they slide down again. Someone’s gotta give the boy a proper pair of glasses. Something that’ll actually stay on his face. As usual, his brain is already thinking up designs for the boy, going a bit further than a properly fitting pair of glasses. He gets carried away sometimes, sue him.

Tony slides off of his bar stool and swaggers over to the group. They’re in the middle of the game of pool, trying to convince the Banner kid to take a seemingly impossible shot. Sure, Tony could probably make it but not everyone is Tony.

As he gets closer the boy’s features start becoming more familiar. Banner...he knew he’d heard that name before. Bruce Banner. He’d been in the news not that long ago. Since being orphaned he’d been working on military projects under Thaddeus Ross - projects that Howard had also been working on. Tony had tried to convince Howard to let him meet the other boy but he never did get to. There was a lab accident and Bruce had quickly vanished before anyone could properly contain him. Thaddeus was still looking for _The Hulk_ to this day. He’d throw a fit if he knew the kid had been picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He almost wanted to tell Ross himself, if only to see the look on the guys face. God he hated that man.

Bruce slowly walks towards the table, examining all the balls positions. Cogs whirl in his mind as he tries to plot the best way to hit the white ball. Slowly, he bends over and peers down the cue. To anyone else it might look like a random place to hit the white but Tony had mapped out the angles and trajectories too. He knew exactly what Bruce was doing. Sure enough, he hits the white and it bounces of the sides of the table - not even coming close to displacing any of the other balls - and knocks into the target perfectly so it rolls gently into the pockets. The other boys shout out and cheer, slapping Bruce’s back roughly. Bruce winces and tries to get away from them but they keep crowding around him.

“Nice shot Banner.” Tony hums, flicking the white ball and displacing it. The other boys back away from Bruce slightly, examining Tony coldly, “I mean I would’ve done it differently myself but your way was good too.” While the other boys eyes narrow, Bruce’s soften. He smiles ever so slightly, looking down at his hands to avoid the other boys.

“Pool isn’t exactly my area of expertise.” He chuckles, handing the cue back to one of the other boys.

“No, it’s not. Your area tends to be a bit more green.” Tony probes, looking for a response. From what he had seen of the boy on film, he’d always come across as shy and jumpy. Not at all the sort of person you'd expect to be hiding a hulking green rage monster.

“I suppose so.” Bruce mutters but doesn’t sound offended like people usually do. Perhaps the footage doesn’t do him justice. Kids got more of a backbone than the rest of the people crowding around them.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” Bruce says quietly as he starts walking away from the boys he’d been playing with. Despite the other boys snarls, Tony follows behind Bruce - waiting for him to tell Tony to go away. He must know Tony is following him but he stays quiet, walking over to the bar. It's enough of an invitation for Tony.

“Your friends?” Tony asks, taking a sip of his coke. Bruce shakes his head while he thinks of a proper response.

“They just want to use me for entertainment.” Bruce sighs as he hops up onto one of the barstools next to where Tony had been sat before. Had the boy seen him sat here before or was it just a coincidence?

“Why were you hanging out with them then?” He knew better than most people that sometimes you had to hang around people you secretly hated. It was how he spent every one of his parents parties. Turns out everyone in the weapons industry is a big bag of dicks. Probably shouldn’t be surprised about that...

“I wasn’t - they just called me over to see if I could make the shot. I could’ve said no but it got them off my back. Besides, it’s better than them fearing me.” Bruce mumbles, side eyeing some kids whispering next to them. The kids attempt to shuffle subtly away from Bruce - failing miserably at being inconspicuous.

“I respectfully disagree.” Tony says, taking another swig of coke. At least people who fear you will stay away from you - the ones who just want entertainment are much more tenacious. In his experience they’re more dangerous too. Fear is easy to understand but who knows what people want from you when they’re trying to use you. Who knows what lengths they'll go to. Fear is so much easier to deal with. 

“You going to explain why Tony Stark is hanging around in the S.H.I.E.L.D academy boiler room?” Bruce finally looks over at Tony. It’s refreshing to see nothing but curiosity on the boys face. No malice. No judgement. Just curiosity.

“You gonna explain how Bruce Banner managed to avoid the american military only to wind up in the S.H.I.E.L.D academy?” Tony deflects effortlessly. It was one of the first skills he'd learnt and remains to this day his most used skill. Why bother learning the proper way to answer peoples questions when you can just deflect back onto them? Requires so much less effort.

“Fair enough.” Bruce smiles and trains his eyes back on the floor.

“This is just a stop off. A pit stop of sorts.” Tony mutters as he takes off his sunglasses. Bruce slowly looks over at Tony again, not flinching away when his eyes meet Tony’s

“This was the best way to keep me contained. So long as Ross doesn’t figure out where I am I should be able to keep everyone safe from me here.” Bruce mutters. A truth for a truth. 

“I don’t see why. You’re tiptoeing too much Brucie bear - you need to learn how to strut.” He sits up straight and turns so he's completely facing Bruce. 

“What and you’re going to teach me?” He asks, reading past all of Tony’s attitude. He'd probably get along with Pepper. Maybe she'll let him keep him. 

“I do look great strutting.” Tony grins cockily. Bruce chuckles as he shakes his head. It’s not a lie - he looks much better strutting than tiptoeing. Must be genetic.

“Unfortunately people tend to die every time I strut.” Bruce’s smile fades back into the frown he’d grown so accustomed to wearing.

“Then you clearly haven’t had enough practice.” Bruce looks thoughtful for a few seconds, examining Tony as if in a new light. Before he can respond a boy is knocked into Tony's back, jolting him. He only just manages to grab his coke can before it spills all over the bar - the other boy isn't quite as lucky. Sheets of paper from his folder spill out everywhere, completely out of order.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Tony is surprised to hear his distinctly Scottish accent. Far from home then. His bright red face is a stark contrast to his curly brown hair. The arms of his cardigan are long enough to completely engulf his hands so it's no surprise he lost a hold of the papers.

Unable to control his curiosity, Tony peeks at the papers as he gathers them up for him. At a glance, they appear to be a typed up thesis on artificial intelligence but annotations have been scrawled all over the margins, flooding over into the actual typed up text. It's crude and messy but just about legible in the low light. There's a name written at the top of the papers marking them as property of the boy.

“That's fine, _Leopold_.”

“Actually it's Leo. Well, um, it's is Leopold but people usually just you know call me Leo. It's shorter. Or Fitz. People call me that a lot too. It's kinda like a nickname - but it's not. It's my last name. So not at all a nickname…” The boy stammers, his face still flushed, “Wait are you - ”

“Tony Stark? Yeah. You know, I was just talking to my good friend Brucie here about AI, wasn't I?” Both him and Fitz look over at Bruce expectantly.

“I thought we were -” Tony jabs his side before he can finish his sentence. Bruce glares at him, his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah, we were.” But there's zero conviction in his voice. He won't even take his eyes off of Tony. Did he have to do everything around here?

“Well, it's not...actually -” Fitz stammers as he readjust his folder in his arms.

“Take a seat.” Tony pats the seat on his other side and untucks it for the boy.

“You don't have to -” Bruce starts but Tony hold us a hand to stop him. For as long as Tony can remember he's loved the idea of AI. In fact, until he met Rhodey, his only friends were his own bots. Granted, he hadn't properly begun making something resembling an AI until Dum-E and then JARVIS but the bots that had come before had felt just as real.

Cautiously, Fitz takes a seat on the bar stool, setting his folder down on the counter top. One hand remains in contact with the folder at all times. Guarding it.

“What are you doing down here then?” Tony asks, probably more interrogatory than he means to. He raises his hand to call over the bartender from earlier who brings over a coke for each of the trio.

“Just working on my thesis. It requires a lot more work before I can show it to any one.”

“In the boiler room?” Bruce chips in, eyebrows raised. Certainly wouldn't be Tony's choice of work place. He's worked in worse places but if he had a choice, he'd always choose his lab.

“I thought a change of scenery might be nice.”. He clears his throat as his eyes instinctively drift towards a brown haired girl on the other side of the room. She doesn't look all that special, seemingly on her own as well, but she seems happy nonetheless. More comfortable amongst the rabble of students. It's not hard to be more socially comfortable than this boy though.

“Here with your girlfriend?” Tony nods towards the girl in question. Somehow, Fitz manages to turn an even brighter shade of red as he chokes on his coke.

“What?! No, no, no. Nothing like… _that_.” He looks down at his folder in an attempt to hide his burning face.

“Hanging out with friends then?”

“I really don't do that. Or have that…”

“How old are you?” Bruce asks softly his coke isn't even opened, it's just sat in front of him awkwardly. Occasionally his hands will twitch towards it but he never actually touches it. Soon it'll be warm and gross but Tony doesn't say anything.

“Fifteen - but I'll be sixteen soon.” He adds hastily.

“How soon is soon?” Bruce asks with the same gentleness as before. He finds it hard to believe this kid is the Hulk. Not exactly what he imagined but equally impressive.

“September.” He mumbles.

“So not that soon.” Tony mutters but is promptly jabbed by Bruce. His hand goes to his side protectively but he keeps from saying anything.

“And you're, what, a physicist? Mechanic?”

“Engineer.” Fitz mutters, wringing his hands.

“So you’re a fifteen year old S.H.I.E.L.D grade engineer writing a thesis on AI?” Not exactly the pairing Tony would’ve expected. To him, S.H.I.E.L.D had never seemed to be the type of organisation interested in this type of thing. They’d honestly come across as more of the big gun kind of group. Afterall, Howard had helped found them.

“The weapons we make here are amazing, they really are, but they don't stop agents from dying. Not really.” He sighs.

“And you think AI could?”

“I think that there wouldn’t be a need for agents - at least not in the field.”

“An iron legion.” Tony mutters under his breath, too quietly for the others to hear. It was an idea he’d played with himself. Working with his father meant his mind was always thinking about the next weapon. The next upgrade. What if you could get rid of the soldiers entirely?

“It’s just an idea though - it’s still years away. Maybe the world isn’t ready for anything like that.” Fitz quickly adds.

Tony is about to respond when the brunette girl Fitz had been eyeing early starts heading towards them. His eyes are fixed solely on her which quickly catches Fitz’s attention. The scottish boy flushes and downs his coke as quickly as possible. He grabs the folder and cradles it against his chest.

“I should probably get going. Stuff to do.” He stammers, eyes fixed directly on the floor. He hops off of his stool only to come face to face with the girl.

“Hey, Fitz right?” She asks meekly but he doesn’t even hang around long enough to respond to her. He completely bails and dashes out of the room, leaving her standing rooted to the spot awkwardly.

“Bye then.” She sighs sadly.

“Hey Jemma.” Bruce leans forward and greets the girl. She instantly lights up and walks over to him.

“Hey Bruce! I think he hates me.” She sighs, clutching a pack of work close to her chest. Her eyes are still following Fitz who’s only just visible as he pushes through the crowd.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Tony mutter, sipping his coke loudly.

“What brings you down here. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Bruce asks politely. She instantly lights up again, putting Fitz into the back of her mind.

“I was just coming over to give you the finished pack. I got really into it last night and finished all the notes. I figured we could properly start working on it tomorrow in our free period.” She chirps, sliding the pack past Tony to Bruce.

“Thanks, that sounds good. See you then.” He smiles meekly, picking up her file and leafing through it.

“See you then.” She grins and turns on her heels. So the good doctor knows Fitz’s sweetheart. Tony can’t help but smirk. Poor kid. Someone’s going to have to help the guy out. Both him and the girl are completely blind.

Bruce has still ignored his coke and is instead putting all his focus into the pack of papers Jemma had handed to him. Silence hangs between them, the conversation completely derailed. He couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about before everything had happened.

“Well I have a tall blonde and handsome Captain waiting for me. He's probably got his knickers all in a twist right now.” Tony sighs, setting his empty coke can down on the counter top. He’d have to go see this flat at some point, there was no point in putting it off any further. Any second now he was going to fall asleep standing up so that probably meant it was time to find a bed.

“You're here to see Rogers?” Bruce cocks his eyebrow, side eyeing Tony with curiosity.

“Already seen him actually. Real uptight guy. You'd have thought he would've learnt how to chill out.” Tony mutters. Howard had spent all his time talking about the guy so what he’d found had been underwhelming. He should’ve known the guy would be an uptight soldier. Not the sort of guy that is known to get on well with Tony.

“Bet he loved you.” Bruce chuckles. That bit hadn’t surprised him. He’d always known the golden boy wouldn’t like him. All the stories told him that much.

“Doesn't everyone?” Tony smirks.

“What are you here to see him for?” Bruce closes the pack he’d been handed and turns to give Tony more attention.

“I'm not really here to see him, my old man is. Dear old Nicky wanted me to meet his super magic boy band though, so I guess that's a thing.” He’d met Fury a couple of times before. The man had seemed alright enough, a bit up himself but nothing too bad. A man with a vision. When Tony had found out what he did he started to respect the man a little. It didn’t mean he trusted the guy though. In fact, he trusted him less now than ever before. If the director wanted him to get to know the so called avengers he was going to meet them. Tony was fairly sure he wasn’t going to like what Fury was hoping to get out of the meeting

“I'll come with you if you want. I haven't got anything to do this evening anymore.” Bruce gestures to the pack of work the girl had handed to him.

“Why am I not surprised Nicky dragged you into earth's mightiest heroes?” Bruce was exactly Fury’s type: deadly strong and guilty enough to want to make a difference. He was more surprised that it had actually worked on Bruce. He didn’t seem the type to succumb easily to someone like Fury.

“I'm not really one of the heroes. I'll stick to the labs - not really suited to field work.”

“The Hulk not suited to field work. Thats a sentence.” Tony snorts.

“It’s true.” Bruce sighs. Tony reaches over and grabs Bruce’s unopened coke can for himself before slapping a twenty dollar note on the counter top.

“Only because you let it.” Bruce stares into his eyes, searching for something - Tony isn’t quite sure what. He doesn’t think Bruce is sure either.

~~~

Memories are a curious thing. People act as if they are set in stone. Definite. Absolute certainty. They are all wrong. When you have lived for centuries, it becomes clear that memories are meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes you'll look back on memories, decades into the future, and try to see if you missed something. If there was something that can explain the events that took place that you overlooked at the time. Gods he's spent so much time over these last few months thinking back on his memories.

Was any of it ever real?

He remembers his mother's touch. How she would sit by his bed at night and sing to him. If course, now he knows that was all a lie. She never was his mother. It was all just an elaborate trick. Ironic, isn't it, that the god of lies never realised he was lied to his whole life. Then again, he supposes he never was a god. He was not of asgard. He was simply the monster they'd brought there. A stolen relic.

The door to his cell opens silently. Say what you want about the conditions here but you can't deny they keep their doors well oiled. Maw’s tall, sleek figure drifts into the room elegantly. As usual, his tools float alongside him ominously.

Instinctively, Loki’s muscles go taut against his bindings. He's been bound on a cross ever since arriving here - his hands bound in a metal which blocks his powers. Even when he sleeps he is forced to stay in the same position.

“Hello again little child of darkness.” Maw mutters sweetly. Just the sound of his voice sends shivers down Loki’s spine. As usual, he does his best to conceal it but Maw isnt so easily fooled, “I see you are pleased to see me.” He grins.

“I doubt anyone is ever pleased to see you.” Loki hisses. It's impossible to tell how long it's been since he last saw the child of Thanos. The space between visits varies dramatically - just another one of his many methods. If he comes irregularly there is no way to tell how long he's been here. It could’ve been years for all he knows. Time really is a fickle thing. It also keeps him on guard. Maw could show up at any moment so there is no time to let his guard down. If he breaks for even one second the Mad Titan has won.

“The Mighty Thanos has patience. Eventually you _will_ break. It is inevitable.” He whispers calmly. As elegantly as ever, his hand swoops over his tray, calling the needles up into the air. They hang sinisterly, waiting for their masters commands. Slowly, they spread out around Loki, every inch of exposed skin centimeters away from one of the needles deadly points.

“Tell me, Frost Giant -”

“Jotunn.” Loki spits but Maw carries on speaking over the top of him.

“ - Where is the Tesseract? You spent centuries on Asgard at the AllFathers side. You know where the stone resides.” Maw draws closer and the needles draw closer with him. He can see the near invisible tips, waiting to sink into his skin.

“I don't know.” Loki musters all his courage and confidence into the words. Asgard was not his home and the AllFather was not his family but that didn't mean he would divulge the location of the Tesseract. Even now he could not bring himself to hate the man. Maybe a part of him would always crave the man's approval.

“Shame.” Maw sighs wearily. It was a routine they'd performed a million times over. The only constant in this place.

One by one, the needles moves towards him as slowly as possible. The first needle makes contact with the skin on his cheek, burying itself deep into his flesh. Burning spreads out from the incision. Every atom in his body explodes and burns. Soon other needles join it, drowning his mind in the burning fire of a million dying stars. Even his sight leaves him as he fights against the agony.

Yet he refuses to scream.

No matter how painful it becomes or how much is taken from him, he will never give the man the satisfaction of his screams. There is still a small shred of his pride left.

After what feels like years, the pain slowly dies away. Slowly the needles retract and return to their tray with a soft clink.

Maws long, spindly hand reaches forward and grabs Loki’s face. For someone who hardly ever touches things, his hands are incredibly calloused and rough. Loki smiles crookedly, staring right back at the insidious child of Thanos. Maw squeezes his face tightly before finally letting go and stepping back.

“A persistent one aren't you.” He hums, “Maybe you've forgotten how you ended up here.” As he speaks a new needle rises up from the tray. While the previous needles had all been clear blue, this one burnt red. There is only one but somehow that's much worse. It drifts peacefully towards his forehead, trained on a specific spot between his eyes. Everytime he moved his head out of it's path it would readjust its course for the same spot with little to no hesitation.

“I would refrain from moving too much. It'll be considerably more painful if you do manage to knock it off course.” Despite the warning he keeps trying to dodge the needle right up until the moment it touches his forehead and the world burns white.

Slowly colour begins to leech back into the world, but it's soon clear he's not in the same place he was before. Although the world looks warmer and brighter, it’s relievingly cool. A cool breeze wraps around him comfortingly. He’d forgotten how it felt to not be constantly be burning up.

“You can’t be serious about bringing him?!” Lady Sif hisses venomously. Her voice seems to come out of nowhere but sure enough she’s stood directly behind him. Her hand is gripping Thor’s forearm as she argues with him.

He remembers this.

This is the day everything changed.

“He is my brother, of course I’m bringing him.” Thor says confidently.

“All due respect, but he’s not a warrior.” Fandral steps forward, his eyes diligently trained on Loki. He can’t say he’s surprised. Thor’s friends never have been fans of him.

“Witches aren’t made for the battlefield.” Volstagg stays sat by the table as far away from him as possible. What does he know? Loki could beat all three of them into the dust if he so wanted. It might not be honourable or mighty but his tricks are more effective than any of their swords or hammers. He’s sick of them looking down on him.

Thor booms with laughter and walks down the palace steps to take his place beside Loki. His hand claps Loki’s back jovially.

“Loki has much skill on the battlefield. I’d be honoured to fight beside him.” Thor grins widely.

“Tricks are not the same as skill.” Lady Sif crosses her arms.

“They are our mothers tricks and they have served us well in the past.” _His_ mother’s tricks. He’d never thought of Frigga as a trickster like him but clearly he was wrong. Seems he’d learnt more from Frigga than her magic. 

As much as they hated his magic, he never could. It was the only piece of Frigga reserved only for him. The one thing he had. Thor had the looks and the glory and the strength but Loki had this. Even now he knew he would never give that up. Which is what makes the power restricting cuff so painful.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s only a short quest anyway. Odin just wants us to collect an artifact from Jötunheimr - it shouldn’t require too many battles if that’s what you’re worried about.” Would Odin have allowed Loki to join the group on their quest to Jötunheimr? Probably not, knowing him.

Slowly the scene fades again, everyone around him fading into nothing. Soon the same warm yellow light of the palace replaces the darkness. This time he’s still in the palace but not quite the same part of the palace.

“I will go.” Thor’s voice booms.

They’re all gathered around Odin’s room. The man himself is tucked into bed, deep in his Odinsleep. Loki had been with him when he collapsed. It was so like Odin to collapse like that in the middle of a confrontation. Even now he would do anything to keep Loki from learning the truth about his heritage. He could no longer hide Loki’s blue skin from himself so he collapsed to avoid talking about how he’d taken a Jotunn baby and paraded it around as his own for centuries.

“Are you sure that’s the wisest choice?” Frigga asks quietly. She’s sat on Odin’s bed, her hand running through his hair absentmindedly.

“Of course it is! I’m a fine warrior - I will be able to retrieve the plant in no time.” Thor’s voice brims with confidence. Loki has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes at his brother. Could his head get any bigger.

“You are the crown prince and shall someday rule Asgard. While Odin is in his Odinsleep it would be best if you were here to protect and rule the realms. As important as the plant is, it can wait until Odin has awoken again.” Frigga says.

Loki remembers how adamant Thor had been on the topic. It was small fries really. A plant that could be used some sickness or another - it was so minor at the time that Loki had forgotten the purpose. To Thor though, it was a quest. He never had been able to resist a good old fashioned quest.

“If I may interject, I have researched plants like these quite thoroughly. Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Loki spoke up for the first time since Odin went into the Odinsleep. So far he’d been sat on the sidelines, watching Thor and Frigga discuss the options. His head was still half in the conversation he and Odin had been having before he collapsed.

“As honourable as that would be brother, you are not made for quests like these. You would be better suited in the towers here with mother. The battle ground is no place for you.” Loki seethes as his words. Just when he’d thought Thor might be different from all the others. He should’ve known better than to let himself believe.

“Maybe you should listen to him, Thor.” Frigga murmurs gently as she gets up from the bed. She glides over to Loki’s side and tries to rest one hand on his shoulder but he darts out of her way. Even the touch of her hand on his skin is too much now. How can she go on pretending she cares about him in this way? Pretending she is his mother. His blood.

“Nonsense. My calling is out there.” Thor says boldly. He puffs his chest up and holds his head high, not budging in the slightest.

“But - ”

“I’m sure you and Loki will do a fine job here until Odin wakes up or I get back.” Thor leaves no room for arguing. Worry lines Frigga’s face but she doesn’t argue back anymore. She’s resigned herself to being completely ignored, as per usual.

“Take care of Asgard, little brother.” Thor places a heavy hand on Loki’s shoulder. Unable to hold himself back, he pushes Thor’s hand off of him.

_This is the man Odin deemed worthy for the throne. The worthy son. How mighty he is. All hail the Mighty Thor, defender of the realms._

“Good luck on your quest, brother.” His blood boils. Brother, as if. Just another lie he was lead to believe.

Once again, the world begins to fade to black. Everything melts away leaving only Loki. The warm colours of the palace fade away until only the darkness of the open night sky are left behind. There’s no light or warmth. Only the empty inevitability of it all.

He’d tried. He’d done everything he could. Just as Thor had done a million times before, he’d taken down a whole race of monsters and they still weren’t happy. It was true, they refused to trust him because he was Jotunn. A frost giant. Scum under their boot.

“Loki! Don’t do this!” Thor pleads from the Bifrost above Loki. The staff Thor is holding is the only thing tethering Loki to the realm. The only thing keeping him from sinking into the abyss.

“I could’ve done it. I could’ve done it for you father. For all of us.” Odin looks down on Loki. There’s no guilt. There’s no understanding. There’s nothing. No matter what he does he’ll never be enough.

“No Loki.” Is all he mutters. _No?_ **_No?_ **

His fingers slowly relax, letting go of the staff. For a second it looks like Thor is screaming. Calling for him. Reaching out for him. But then the void swallows him and everything fades away again.

“Do you understand now? Do you see? They left you to die so why do you defend them.” Maw asks gently, summoning the red needle back to it's tray. Loki only has the strength to snarl.

“What a shame...I had been hoping to avoid this but apparently that won’t be possible.” Maw sighs.

Slowly, he stalks over to the door and raises his hand. A scepter with a glowing blue gemstone slowly appears through the doorway, drifting towards Maw’s outstretched hand. For the first time, Loki sees the man actually grab ahold of of the sceptre by the handle.

Step by step, he walks up to Loki. His eyes are drawn immediately to the pulsating gem that forms the centerpiece of the weapon. If he didn’t know any better he would say the thing was _alive_. There’s an otherworldly power contained within it - something just as valuable as the Tesseract they were chasing. It couldn’t be...

Maw carefully raises the scepter so the tip is directly in front of his bare chest. Try as he might to wriggle out of it's path, he’s too tightly bound to actually move out of its path. Any movement he makes is too insignificant to actually move him out of it's path.

Cold spreads out across his skin where the scepter touches, rippling out in every direction. For a second the cold is relieving but then it gets too cold ever for him. Blue streaks across his eyes, dulling the world around him. Sharp colours blur together and become diluted before finally sharpening again.

“Are you ready to comply?” Maw hisses taking a step towards him.

Pain feels so far away now. Like a distant dream of another life. Everything that was once pain is filed with nothing but anger. There was an endless sea of the stuff running through his veins. Everywhere the blue light from the sceptre touched, anger bloomed.

He’d been cheated out of his throne! He was a prince and that had been taken from him. Thor had been crowned instead of him. Thor! That man didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. _He_ was the worthy son. Not his half wit brother.

Why had he been fighting all this time again? It all felt so pointless. What reason did he have to resist?

“Oh, I’m ready.”


	24. Star Wars and Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets the rest of the team for a group movie night

_25/03/2016, 20:05_

Neither of them speak as Bruce leads them both over to the operations building. The only sound punctuating the silence is the sound of Tony throwing a small metal screw he'd fished out of his pocket up and down.

His head keeps replaying the words Tony had said before. _Only because he lets it_...was he letting that be the truth? Back on the mission he'd let the Hulk come to the surface. Defend them. It had worked perfectly. The Hulk was able to defend everyone and fight off the mutant brotherhood without harming his teammates. Although he was a monster that killed more people than he saved, did that mean he had to stay that way? 

“What’s going on in that big head?” Tony asks, nudging Bruce gently.

“Nothing.” He mumbles, shaking his head a little too violently. It's just mindless thoughts. Nothing of substance.

“Whatever, keep your secrets.” Tony mumbles rolling his eyes a little. He doesn’t push any further but Bruce can feel him lingering there on the edge of his field of vision. He looks over at Bruce a few times but never speaks. It's a comfortable silence - free of the awkwardness that usually accompanies the quiet.

“Just try not to piss them off too much.” Bruce mutters looking over at Tony. For the most part the others were pretty relaxed but there’s no way to tell how the twins will react to someone like Tony. His relationship with them was getting better but they weren't always the most stable. He’d really rather not have to confront that situation. Especially not on a night like tonight.

“Hmmm.” Tony hums noncommittally. Not liking the sound of that, Bruce stops to fully face Tony. They’re almost at the flat now, just a couple of meters away.

“That’s not particularly convincing.” Bruce mumbles. His arms are folded as he watches Tony cautiously.

“I’m hurt.” The edges of Tony’s mouth are turned up slightly into a subtle smirk. With a wiggle of his eyebrows he begins strutting down the corridor again. His hand dips into his pocket to pull out his sunglasses again.

Bruce hesitantly follows after him. Nothing he says is going to change Tony’s stance. He’ll just have to hope for the best. Who knows, maybe Tony will decide to play nice.

Tony reaches the front door first, waiting in front of it patiently. His eyes roam across the surface of the door, searching for the key hole or keypad of some kind. When Bruce steps up to the door he watches to see how Bruce opens the door. As Bruce grabs ahold of the door knob it beeps to acknowledge his finger print.

“Home sweet home.” Bruce mutters as the door swings open. As much as he disliked the thought of being a part of the Avengers he'd grown close to the other members. These days the flat often felt more like home than his own dorm room. In all fairness he spent a great deal of time playing games and watching films with them between projects. His own room was more of a base than anything else. A safe place all to himself. 

Training for the group always ended before seven so it wasn’t any surprise to find them lounging around in their pyjamas. Their carefully hoarded pile of old DVD’s are strewn across the floor haphazardly so most of the floor in front of the TV is covered. It's as if they've created their own little moat around the sofas.

Scott's head is in Hopes lap as she carefully plaits the loose strands into delicate braids. Despite there being an empty sofa, Pietro and Wanda are sat next to Hope with Scott lying across them. While Wanda is forced to support his torso, Pietro is stuck with his smelly workout feet. For a second even Bruce feels a pang of pity for the boy. After being on the receiving end of other peoples smelly feet before he's learnt to avoid the sofa's entirely to protect his nose from the assault.

“Who's the new fella?” Scott asks as he sits up from Hopes lap. Wanda hisses as more weight is suddenly put on her slight frame. After a rushed apology, Scott reclaims his previous position atop the others. Pietro groans and shuffles closer to Wanda to try and escape the smell.

“This is Tony - he's here for…something or other, it wasn't really clear what exactly.” Bruce mumbles a short introduction. He'd say more but he's never been great at introductions. Best to leave it to Tony. He had a feeling Tony mentioned something about his father earlier but he couldn't remember exactly what. Truth be told, he wasn't fully listening.

“I'm here for you to play babysitter. At least until something worth my time comes along.” Tony sighs, drinking in the new faces. Somehow he's even worse at this than Bruce. It probably would've been better if Bruce had done the introduction...

“I can't imagine your time is worth a lot.” Hope hisses under her breath. It's loud enough that Tony must be able to hear it but he acts as if he hasn’t. His hands slip into his trouser pockets as he begins circling the room cautiously.

“Ah Tony.” Steve sighs, appearing fully dressed from the shower room. At the sight of him Tony stops circling, retaking his spot beside Bruce. Unconsciously his shoulder is putting a barrier between Bruce and Steve. A human shield against the rest of the team. Surprising even himself, Bruce steps to one side so he's standing beside Tony instead of hiding behind his shoulder. Tony notices the movement but he doesnt say a thing. His muscles relax a little though, his stance softening.

“You ran out of things to play with then?” He growls passive aggressively.

“Well I couldn't keep the star spangled man with a plan waiting.” Tony grumbles sarcastically as he pushes past Steve to get to the kitchen, “You guys don't happen to have any coffee around here? Three cokes did absolutely nothing.” Tony begins rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, ignoring Steve's harsh glare.

“Top left cupboard.” Natasha mutters from next to Tony. Bruce could’ve sworn she hadn't been there a second ago but it was Natasha. She had a creepy habit of appearing spectrally where you weren't expecting her.

As usual, she's dressed up in her favourite stained AC/DC t-shirt and black leggings. Her hair is masterfully done up in a perfect ballerina bun that perches elegantly on top of her head. There's her signature silver arrow necklace around her neck which trails down under her shirt. It only ever comes off during missions and training.

“I hope you washed that.” Tony sighs as he looks Natasha up and down. She sticks her tongue out with a grin at the sight of him. Had they met before?

“You clearly hadn't.” She says with a smile.

“It was perfectly fine how it was.” He grumbles but there's no conviction behind the words. He's not even paying attention to her or the shirt anymore - already moved onto something better. That something being making a cup of coffee.

“Top left cupboard.” She repeats as she hands him the empty coffee jug from the drying rack next to the sink. He takes it from her with a nod and grabs Clints personal bag of coffee from the top left cupboard.

Ever since Natasha decided to buy her own coffee, Clint had gotten protective with his own coffee. Hoarding it in the top left cupboard. It had meant the others needed to buy a third, public supply of coffee that now resided in the cupboard next to the fridge with the other drinks. No one was sure where Natasha kept her stash but Bruce’s money was on it being somewhere in her room.

Everyone, even Steve, loses interest in Tony as he potters around the kitchen making his coffee. He hums quietly to himself as he works through the familiar motions of brewing a coffee. Unlike the S.H.I.E.L.D grade spies who are usually working the coffee machine, Tony doesn't even try to be quiet. In fact he takes every opportunity to be loud. 

Natasha quickly takes her place on the empty couch, pressing herself as close as she can to the armrest. Despite how little space Natasha takes up on the sofa, Steve grabs one of the pouffes and takes his seat on the floor in front of Natasha. His head rests comfortably on her feet as she joins in Tony's humming.

On its own, Tony's humming sounds warm and comforting - like a lullaby a mother would sing their newborn child - but when Natasha add the higher, faster part it takes on a whole new tone. It still sounds like a lullaby but considerably more haunting. More like a warning or a threat than something designed to comfort a child. Every note sends a chill running all the way down his spine.

Strangely enough, neither of them seem to be conscious of their humming. Nonetheless the tunes perfectly match one another, completing the sinister duet. Designed to be heard together not apart.

They're interrupted as Clint finally peeks his head out from around his door frame. He's also wearing his black sabbath t-shirt and a pair of bright purple joggers.

“Someone's brewing coffee.” He sniffs the air cautiously. Tony turns around with his coffee mug in hand to examine the new arrival. The coffee sloshes dangerously from the sudden movement. A few drops spill over the edge but he makes no move to wipe it up.

“So this is where you street urchins washed up.” Tony takes a long swig of coffee.

“...street urchins?” Clint whispers with a frown.

“Ana and Edwin had us dropped at the academy the next day and we've been here ever since.” Natasha explains as she gets up off of the couch. Her and Tony switch places with Natasha heading towards the kitchen and Tony moving to stand next to Bruce in the living room again.

“The butler picked them up off the streets. I think they said something about an attack or something. I guess legolas and itsy bitsy here must’ve intervened.” Natasha slows down slightly at the nickname. “You are the Black Widow right?” He says smugly.

“Aren't you well informed.” She says with a smile.

“I did my homework.” He mutters as he sips his coffee.

Natasha shakes her head slightly before propping open her door. She disappears for a second before suddenly reappearing with 8 dominoes pizza boxes. She carefully balances the stack of pizzas as she prowls back to the group. At this point he's not even questioning how she got them. He's willing to bet Coulson was involved somehow.

Scott jumps up as she sets the boxes on the floor amongst all the DVD’s. Pietro growls but Scott doesn’t have a care in the world. He quickly grabs a box of pizza for himself and sits down on the floor in front of Hope. Natasha grabs a box for herself and one for Steve before retaking her seat on the couch. She hands Steve his box which he takes with a quiet thanks.

“What's a Black Widow?” Scott asks with a frown. There’s a half eaten pizza in his hand and a piece of pepperoni half in his mouth and half sticking out. As usual wasting no time when it comes to the food.

“A Black Widow is a specially trained female Russian spy. The top of her class.” Bruce pushes his glasses further up his face as he explains.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who did the homework.” Tony claps his back gently. He hadn't meant to intrude but he'd been curious. Besides he'd heard things about Black Widows while he was on the run. It was hard to keep himself from looking into it a little.

“Wait...are you drinking my coffee?” Clint asks incredulously, not following the previous conversation in the slightest. He’s leaning forward and examining the counter tops where his coffee is laying in full view.

“Well you did come over and drink my coffee so I feel I’m entitled to this.” Steve rolls his eyes in the background but wisely stays quiet, “Wait a second...isn’t that my shirt too? Is everyone here a thief?” Despite his words he actually sounds amused. Hope has to grab Scott's arm as he goes to raise it.

“I’m sure you’ve got more than enough to spare.” Clint says bitterly. He's persistently glaring at the mug in Tony’s hand, fuming.

Bobbi’s bedroom door suddenly opens as the girl appears. There’s a bundle of multi coloured blankets tucked under one arm and a pillow under the other. Before coming over to join them she opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of lemonade. She does grab a cup for herself but doesn't even bother trying to get one for the others.

“Whatever. At least you got rid of the purple spandex.” Tony says with a quirk of his eyebrow. His eyes watch Bobbi cautiously as she saunters over to the group. He takes a slow leisurely sip of his coffee.

To this day, Bobbi and Natasha refuse to let go of that. Every time a new person joins the team they get out the photos to poke fun at him. Clint doesn’t seem to care though - he still refuses to accept that he looked terrible in the old suit.

“Luckily we managed to convince Fury to replace it with a standard issue S.H.I.E.L.D agent uniform.” Bobbi mutters as she begins handing out the blankets to everyone. Even with the twins sharing there's only two blankets left by the time she takes a seat next to Natasha on the couch. She spreads one out over the two of them on the couch and chucks the other one down to Steve who bundles himself up in it gratefully.

Clint turns to scowl at Bobbi this time but she just sticks her tongue out at him and pats the sofa next to her. He quickly hops onto the sofa between Bobbi and Natasha, burying himself under the covers.

“We’re going watch a movie now so you two have got to sit down somewhere. You’re blocking the TV.” Pietro says, crossing his arms.

“We didn’t realise you were coming so you’ll have to share like the twins.” Natasha nods to the pile of pizza’s in the middle.

“That’s fine - I’m not that hungry to be honest.” Bruce mutters. He lets Tony lead them both towards a little clear spot on the floor next to Steve. As they pass the pile of pizza’s Bruce bends over and grabs the whole stack, moving to hand them out to the others.

“Thanks Banner.” Hope says with a smile, making sure to _‘accidentally’_ bump Scott’s head with the box as she takes it from him.

He acknowledges Wanda as he hands her the box but doesn’t say anything to her. They’ve come to terms with one another. Neither of them need anything more than this right now.

Clint is as bitter as ever so Bruce is resigned to handing both boxes to Bobbi before sitting next to Tony. Unconsciously he finds himself sitting in touching distance of the genius billionaire rather than on the opposite side of the room. He can feel Natasha’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as she examines the pair of them curiously.

“What are we watching?” Tony asks as he throws a blueberry up into the air only to catch it in his mouth first try. _Since when did he have blueberries?_ “You want one?” He asks, tilting a silver packet towards Bruce. He reaches over and grabs a surprisingly fresh blueberry from the packet cautiously. It's been years since he last ate a blueberry - they’re better than he remembers them being.

“Star wars!” Scott says enthusiastically. Half of his pizza has already gone and he’s showing no signs of slowing down.

“Steve and the twins haven’t seen Star Wars before. They don’t even know what happens in them. We’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to marathon the original trilogy.” Bruce explains. Of course he hadn’t been surprised that Steve hadn’t watched or heard about Star Wars but he had been surprised about the twins. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been given their upbringing.

“Star Wars virgins.” Tony says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Shhhh. The films starting!” Bobbi mutters, hitting Tony’s head lightly. Sure enough Natasha has pressed the button on the remote and the iconic lines begin scrolling across the screen.

Bruce tries to hand Tony the pizza box but the other boy refuses. He reaches over to take a couple of pieces but leaves the box with Bruce. Cautiously he reaches into the box to take a piece for himself. Technically he did eat before coming here but it turns out the Hulk has more of an appetite than an normal human. Even if he hasn’t Hulked out he tends to get hungry more often than most people. Normally he can squash down the need to eat - after all he’d been training for years, even before the Hulk. For some reason this time he can’t hold himself back though.

They watch mostly in silence - at least until the pizza is gone. Even Tony doesn't try to ruin the movie experience by talking. There are a few times when they have to stop the film to explain certain things to the first time viewers but for the most part it's an uninterrupted film viewing. All three of them - even Pietro - are more invested in the film that Bruce had been expecting. More invested than they normally are during the film nights.

Early on in the film Hope ends up getting up from her spot to get glasses for everyone. Slowly Bobbi was making her way through the lemonade. If they didn’t try to get a drink now it’d all be gone. When you're catering to a group of this size it's normally smart to get a couple of bottles - something that had been overlooked this time. When she tries to go back to her seat Scott has hopped up onto the sofa to claim her spot. She scowls menacingly at him before sitting right on his lap in defiance. He grumbles for a bit before shifting to accommodate her better. She fits perfectly onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder comfortably.

Every second that goes by, Tony seems to get more and more drowsy. Without his sunglasses on the bags under his eyes are incredibly prominent. He’s doing his best to keep his eyes open but it’s a losing battle. Even the coffee has done nothing for him.

A few minutes into the second film Tony starts leaning against Bruce. He turns very slowly to try and examine his new friend without disturbing him. The other boy has fallen asleep, his head lolling to one side to rest on Bruce’s shoulder. Asleep, he doesn’t look his sixteen years. It’s as if all the years have melted away leaving just a child behind. It’s strange to see someone like Tony looking so...vulnerable. Even Steve seems to have noticed.

“Is he okay?” Steve whispers softly. There’s the hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watches Tony breathing deeply.

“I think he’ll be fine. He’s just incredibly tired.” Bruce whispers as quietly as he can. With Steve’s super hearing he should still be able to hear him, despite how ridiculously quiet it is.

“You really like him, huh?” Steve chuffs. Of course Bruce knows how weird it is that he’s gotten so attached to Tony. He’d known the others for considerably longer than Tony but he’d never been close like this with them. Things just kinda clicked.

“He’s a good guy. Likes to rub people the wrong way but he’s actually nicer than you think.” Bruce mutters, eyeing the other boy. His dark brown fringe is flopping in front of his closed eyes messily. Somehow it still manages to look better than Bruce’s flopping black hair.

“It’s nice to see you have a proper friend.” Steve says with a soft, quiet smile. Bruce returns it, shuffling slightly closer to Tony to make him more comfortable.

“Here.” Steve teaches over and hands Bruce his blanket, “Wrap it around him to keep him warm.” He nods to Tony's unconscious form.

“That's your blanket, we're not going to take that.” Bruce tries to hand the blanket back to Steve but Steve holds his hands up.

“I'm already pretty warm - having the super soldier serum and all. You two need it more than me.” He says with a polite smile, "Besides, it gets really hot in here with all the people."

Gently, he wraps the blanket around the two of them. Cocooning them under the thick fluffy blanket. Tony wriggles and groans for a second but quickly settles back down under the warmth.

Bruce isn't sure at what exact point he falls asleep, but it's quiet when he wakes up. At his side, Tony is still sound asleep. There's the sound of steady breathing surrounding them which is only interrupted by Pietro's snoring.

Looking around he realises they weren't the only ones asleep on the couches. In fact the only one up and awake seems to be Steve. Hope has fallen asleep on Scott's lap, her arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close. Scott's mouth is slightly open, a trail of drool coming from his mouth onto the sofa where his head is resting.

The twins are pressed close together as well, one of Wanda's hands intertwined with Pietro’s. His head rests on her delicately as she tucks her head under his chin. Somehow his snoring isn't disturbing her - probably a skill she picked up from living on the streets.

Bobbi is curled up like a cat with her head resting on the sofas arm rest. Her hair spills over the edge like a golden waterfall. Her arms are folded to form a pillow for her head to rest on.

Beside her Clint is laying in Natasha's lap as she leans against the armrest. A perfect mirror of Bobbi. Some of her hair spills on the opposite side of the arm rest though so it tickles Clints cheek ever so slightly.

“No one made it to the end of the third film except me.” Steve explains, brining a mug of hot chocolate over to Bruce.

“How long did we all sleep for?” Bruce says with a yawn. He tries to stretch his arms but with Tony pressed against him there's not enough space to properly move. At least not without waking him.

“Well it's eleven thirty now. I was just going to wake up Tony so he could get ready to leave. Howard will be coming by any minute now.” Steve says softly.

Eleven thirty? He must've slept for over twelve hours! There's a first for everything.

“I'll wake him up.” Bruce groans as he rubs his eyes. For some reason, despite having slept for longer than he has since he was a baby, he feels incredibly drowsy. More so than usual even.

“You need to wake up now Tony.” As gently as possible, he shakes Tony to attempt to get his attention. It would probably make more sense to shake him roughly but he knows how he would feel if he was woken up abruptly. It wouldn't be a pretty sight. Especially not if any people were nearby.

“No.” Tony groans, curling in on himself. He pulls the blanket closer around him - resulting in them being pulled off of Bruce.

“Your dad's going to be here soon.” Bruce whispers, pushing him a little harder this time. Tony's already kind of awake, he just needs to actually open his eyes.

“Tell him to fuck off.” Tony sighs and buries his head under the blanket. Carefully Bruce pulls the blanket off of him to expose him to the harsh living room light. Tony groans loudly and furrows his brow but doesn't open his eyes.

“Tony.” Bruce says sternly. From what Bruce can remember of Howard Stark, he's not a particularly patient man. He can't imagine he's much different with his son.

“Five more minutes.” He grumbles. His hand slaps over Bruce's mouth to stop any further protests. Bruce rolls his eyes with a sigh but the door knocks before he can try to pry Tony's hand off of his mouth.

Instantly Tony’s eyes snap open and he sits up off of Bruce's shoulder. He isn't the only one that suddenly awakens. Bobbi, Clint and Natasha all begin stirr. Sitting up from their sleeping positions they look around the room wide eyed.

“I'll get that.” Steve mumbles as he steps over the sea of DVD’s to get to the front door. Not wanting to waste any more time, he quickly opens the door to allow Howard entry.

“Ah Steve, good to see you again.” Howard says with a slight smile, “Is Tony up and awake?” He asks as he sidesteps past Steve into the flat. His eyes rake across the room disapprovingly until they settle on the semiconscious form of his son.

“Kind of…” Steve mutters apologetically.

Slowly Tony gets up onto two feet and stumbles over lazily. He rubs his eyes with one hand as he comes to a stop in front of Howard.

“Lazy as ever. Couldn't even change into pyjamas I see.”

“I didn’t have a whole load of options in the clothing department.” Tony sighs with a roll of his eyes. Sure enough, he hadn't had a bag with him. If it had come down to it he could've borrowed clothes from one of the others but they hadn't bothered. It can't have been too uncomfortable if Tony happily slept in them through the night.

“You’re not getting on the jet like that. Go change into these.” Howard hands him a neatly folded stack of dark clothes which Tony takes without hesitation, “I’m sure you can find a bathroom to change in.” Bobbi drowsily points to the bathroom with one finger in a vague attempt to guide Tony.

With Tony out of the room, the reality of the situation suddenly kicks in. This is Howard Stark. A man he’s met before. A man that’s friends with Thaddeus Ross. What happens if he leaves the academy only to call Ross and tell him where Bruce is? He certainly wouldn’t put it past Howard. The guy knows how much Ross wants Bruce after all.

Howard steps further into the room, carefully dodging the mess all over the floor. As he draws close Hope begins to stir. One hand comes up to rub her eyes as she tries to help her eyes adjust to the light.

“Howard Stark.” She hisses with a glare. She quickly sits up and crosses her arms but doesn’t bother getting up off of Scott’s lap to face the older Stark. Despite having literally just woken up, she looks ten times more awake than Bruce feels.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” He asks dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s even trying to recognise her. He’s more focused on gauging Steve’s reaction than anything else.

“Hope Van Dyne, you might know me better by my fathers last name: Pym.” She growls. Howard sighs deeply and scowls at her.

“A Pym. Should’ve known. I’m surprised he sent you here, I thought he hated S.H.I.E.L.D.” Howard stops walking, freezing amongst the mess. One foot lazily kicks the DVD case away to give him more space to comfortably stand. The DVD case knocks into another resulting in a chain reaction that sends a DVD spinning under the sofa.

“He knows when it’s best to put aside his differences.” She crumples up her nose in a snarl. Bruce has never seen her show this much resentment towards someone. He knew Pym and Howard had once worked together but didn’t end on particularly good terms. It was never clear why but they hadn’t worked together in years.

“Or did he just need to get you out of the way? He never could share his work. Apparently not even with his daughter.” Howard says smugly. Although Hope might refuse to use her father’s last name, she’s still prickles at the taunt. Her face stays a perfect mask but he can see her fist curling around the material of Scott’s t-shirt.

No one dares say anything further. As terrible as it sounds, Bruce is glad to have the attention somewhere other than on him. If he intervened he’d only be drawing unwanted attention onto himself. So far Howard hasn’t realised he’s here but that doesn’t mean he should risk it any further. He's standing on the edge of the blade.

Luckily he avoids having to deal with the awkward situation as Natasha gets up off of the sofa. She slinks over to the kitchen and begins getting mugs out from the cupboard. With one finger she flicks on the kettle, letting the loud bubbling drown out the heavy silence.

“Do you want anything to drink.” Natasha asks sweetly. She flashes a sickly sweet smile at Howard, batting her eyes. Howard shakes his head stiffly, completely overlooking her. Writing her off. Filing her away with all the other nameless faces he meets in his day to day life.

“Robert, can you come over here and help me?” She asks, looking directly at Bruce. _Robert? There’s no one here called Robert._ After a second it finally clicks in his head. He quietly nods and creeps over to the kitchen. Just as with Natasha, the man doesn’t bother paying Bruce and heed as he slinks over to busy himself with the drinks. As he reaches the kitchen Natasha hands him a mug with a soft smile.

He potters around the kitchen like her, keeping his face pointedly facing away from the living room. It’s not much but it is an effective enough method to hide his face. It's not like Howard is even looking though.

“So this is the S.H.I.E.L.D super team. The Avengers.” Howard chuff’s, still watching Hope out of the corner of his eyes.

“You got a problem with it?” Clint asks. As usual he’s unable to keep his calm. Bobbi tenses slightly beside him but she doesn’t make a move to stop him. They’re as bad as each other in that department. Maybe that’s why they both need Natasha so badly.

“I hadn’t expected you to be children.” His eyes scan each of them. They might be on the young side but it’s not like Steve was too much older than than them. Besides, the younger ones like the twins had yet to be approved for combat - let alone sent out on a mission. They'd only fought alongside the other Avengers before because they weren't a part of S.H.I.E.L.D, and look how that ended.

“What would you know about us?” Clint growls with that underlying rage that is always bubbling somewhere under the surface. There's more rage hidden underneath him than anyone would think. Take it from Bruce, someone who's spent the better part of his life angry and bitter.

“I know my son. I wouldn’t give a child his age a super team and a mission to fight bad guys.” Howard's eyes flick over to the bathroom Tony is currently changing in.

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not your son then. Isn’t it?” He says defiantly.

Natasha sets her mug down on the counter top loudly, attracting both parties attention before anything further can happen. She blushes and bites the bottom of her lip, carefully mopping up the spilt tea dripping onto the counter top. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to put it down that loudly.” She bows her head so loose strands of hair from her bun can fall and cover her face. Howard quickly looks away again. Once again overlooking the redheaded master assassin.

“I suppose so.” He mumbles quietly, putting an end to their conversation. 

Clint, on the other hand, doesn’t look away from Natasha. When she’s sure that Howard’s back is completely turned she drops her simpering mask to glare at Clint.

_What are you doing?_ She mouths, scowling fiercely. Clint mouths something back but Bruce’s glasses are on the other side of the room so he can’t make out exactly what. It clearly isn’t enough of an explanation because Natasha’s gaze doesn’t let up.

 _Stop getting into arguments. He’ll be going soon anyway._ She mouths, her eyes following Howard to make sure he doesn’t turn around to see them mouthing to each other. Clint rolls his eyes and flops back down on the couch. Despite how it’s tearing him up inside he doesn’t say anything further.

The tension is only broken when Tony steps out of the bathroom. He’s actually dressed up decently in a neat black suit and shirt. The tie which is hanging around his neck isn’t quite done all the way up and his top button is undone but somehow that makes it look better. Less forced. More casual while still coming across as professional. As he approaches his dad Bruce notices that he’s still wearing black converse trainers underneath the fancy suit.

“Ready to go then?” Tony sighs, brushing his suit down roughly. Howard gives him an approving once over but doesn’t soften his glare.

“We need to make up for lost time.” Howard mutters as he opens the door to the flat. Instead of leaving, he holds the door out for Tony. Allowing him to go first.

“See you around then.” Tony says, throwing up a peace sign as he backs out of the room. He doesn’t wait for Howard, his footsteps audibly getting further and further away. Howard doesn’t make a move either, staying perched in the doorway like a bad smell.

“Nice to meet you all.” He says bitterly, “I’ll be interested to see what you do with this team Steve.” He says softer than normally. Steve nods slowly, not exactly wanting to agree with him but not wanting to anger the man.

When he’s gone everyone stands quietly mulling over the events. Quietly Hope hops off of Scott’s lap and takes the mug of tea Natasha had been brewing for herself. Without her presence Scott begins to stir. He blinks drowsily, looking around the people gathered around quietly.

“What did I miss?” Scott groans.

~~~

_26/03/2016, 13:29_

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Wanda pants, bent over with her arms resting on her knees. Sweat beads on her forehead, the sunlight from the huge windows catching on them so they glisten like diamonds.

Pietro and her are in one of the abandoned rooms on the top floor of the building training with Clint. Unlike the other training rooms, there’s no equipment or weaponry scattered around the room. Once upon time it must’ve been a proper training room of sorts but no one except the three of them have used it in years.

Personally, Pietro prefers these sessions to the normal ones. Here he can use his abilities which meant he spends a lot less time getting beaten up. In all fairness, he spends most of his time getting beaten up here too but that's because Clint is scary good with his bow. Laugh all you want, it's damn near impossible to touch the guy when he's firing jelly arrows at you. Somehow he always seems to know exactly where Pietro is going to be next. It’s even more infuriating than it sounds.

It had been weird getting used to life at the academy after being on the run for so long. He’d tried to hate them all when he woke up, he really had. They were all here, in S.H.I.E.L.D, living the high life while people suffered out there. While _his_ people, mutants, were dying out there. It was harder than it sounded though. They'd been kinder than he'd expected. They were actually trying to do good, unlike his previous allies.

Running in front of Clint had been a split second decision. The dead faces from the streets had been staring at him. Those families just like his own had been killed by people he’d thought were his family. That was never the deal. They’d known it too which is why they hid it from Wanda and Pietro.

In that moment he’d thought if he could just save one life maybe he could die happily. He hadn’t hesitated when they started shooting at Clint. Maybe he should’ve hesitated. What would Wanda have done if he’d died? He didn’t though.

When he’d woken up in that hospital room with Wanda at his side he’d been confused more than anything. Why hadn’t he died? His injuries should’ve easily killed him but here he still was.

A second chance.

It was then he’d dedicated himself to trying to do something better with this life. As frustrating as getting his arse handed to him was, he had to keep going. For Wanda. No matter what she might say she liked it here. They didn’t have to run anymore. They didn’t have to be alone. Here she could be a fourteen year old - whatever that meant. He couldn't be sure anymore.

Wanda had filled him in on what happened while he was out. Had explained how Clint stayed with them. They might’ve gotten off to a rocky start but, outside of Wanda, Clint was probably the person he trusted most. He owed the guy for taking care of his sister while he wasn’t able to. They'd come to an understanding which was slowly strengthening.

“While you were asleep. Howard Stark decided to come around.” Clint mutters. His fingers carefully move over the arrows, counting how many are left in the quiver lazily.

Howard Stark's name snaps Pietro out of this thoughts. _Howard Stark_. He was _here_. The man had been in the same room as them while they slept. Right in front of them and they’d slept straight through it.

Rage blazes inside of him. He can still see the Stark Industries name printed on that bomb. The man who had destroyed his family.

“What was he doing here?!” Wanda snarls. Her eyes flash scarlet as her signature scarlet smoke curls around her hand. Maybe if his own rage wasn’t already overflowing he’d try to stop her. Instead he watches her as her smoke swirls viciously around her clenched fists. It gets stronger and stronger until he can feel the intensity of the pressure radiating from her.

“He came here to pick up Tony…” Clint says hesitantly. The anger and bitterness he’d been feeling all lesson seems to have dissipated upon seeing Pietro and Wanda’s reaction to the name.

“What does he have to do with Tony?” Pietro asks, scowling. A part of him already knows the answer.

“He’s Tony Stark - Howard’s son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Afghanistan. What could possibly go wrong...?


	25. Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Howard land in Afghanistan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is a week late. It's the middle of my A level exam season and although I've been writing in my breaks from revision to wind down, the chapter just wasn't ready last Sunday.

_26/03/2016, 12:00_

As soon as they get on the jet Tony claims his favourite seat next to the window. With his headphones in and his sunglasses in he can almost pretend that Howard isn't here. As usual he's on the opposite side of the jet to Tony, most likely pretending Tony isn't there. Just the usual.

He's still tired from the night before but doesn't bother trying to get some sleep. He's never been able to sleep on planes, at least not when Howard's around. Most of the time he doesn't even bother trying. What's the point?

By tomorrow he’ll be back home and will be able to get some rest. Until then he'd be fine. He's been to plenty of these kinds of things. All he has to do is smile and look pretty while Howard presents the weapon the Tony made without giving any credit. Nothing new. Nothing taxing.

The only upside is that Rhodey would be there. He always ended up being dragged into these military meetings. He'd been off in his plane for months now. They hadn't seen each other since around November which wasn't anything new. Ever since MIT they'd been seeing each other less and less.

An hour or so into the flight Howard gets up and strolls over to Tony, throwing something on his lap. Tony sits up and opens his eyes to glare at Howard. A heavy black bulletproof vest now sits comfortably in his lap.

“You need to have this on - we’re heading straight into a war zone so it’s best not to take any chances.” Howard mumbles as he reclaims his seat. Does he already have one on?

Not bothered enough to get up and walk over to the bathroom to change, Tony begins unbuttoning his shirt until he’s down to just his black vest. Even though the bullet proof vest is black underneath his white shirt it remains completely hidden from sight.

With the addition of the bullet proof vest he’ll now have three layers on. Just perfect for the heavy heat of Afghanistan. Hopefully he won’t have to use it...

It’s considerably harder to relax on the jet in the bulky vest. Every position manages to cut off a couple of vital blood supplies. After a lot of wriggling and squirming he manages to find a somewhat adequate position and he leans his head back with his eyes half closed. If he couldn’t sleep before then there was no way he was sleeping now. Closing his eyes was better than having to stare at the blank white plane walls.

“Come on, we’re already running late because you couldn’t wake up at a decent hour.” Howard sighs a few hours later. He’s shoving Tony gently to make sure he's awake.

“Whatever.” Tony grumbles as he gets up from his chair, “I think you'll find we would've been late anyway since I didn't have any clothes to wear.” He walks over to Howards side in front of the jets door.

“And who's fault is that?” Howard’s eyes are fixed out of the window in front of him. He barely even acknowledges Tony's presence.

As the ramp of the jet lowers, hot humid air fills the jet. Sweat sticks to his skin uncomfortably, forming and thin film around him. His suit sticks to his body, regretting the heavy black suit jacket that's now boiling him alive.

Nonetheless he smiles as Howard leads them down the steps to the landing strip where people are already waiting. There are military trucks surrounding the runway forming a convoy to guide him and Howard.

Beyond the runway is nothing but desert and mountains as far as the eye can see. Everything is completely desolate. Dust billows up from the ground to form small clouds which makes everything look slightly hazy.

Howard steps off of the ramp first and begins heading towards the closest group of people. His predatory smile flickers to the surface as he approaches with Tony in tow. A once charming man reduced to a bitter CEO just like everyone else. The soldiers waiting for them don't appear to notice how forced his smile is as they laugh heartily at his approach.

“Howard! Good to see you again!” The general Tony somewhat recognises bellows happily.

“Good to see you too.” Howard says with an almost genuine smile.

“I hope you've brought something good for us this time. We could do with some more Stark weapons on the field.” The general says as he begins leading Tony and Howard towards the military trucks. While Howard stands side by side with the general, Tony is demoted to walking behind them both. Soldier flank their sides as they walk, barely giving Tony any breathing room.

“So long as you have the money.” Howard laughs.

As they approach the trucks familiar faces come into focus. Tony almost cracks a smile at the sight of one of his only friends stood amongst the group. In response, Rhodey only glares. Nothing has changed there then. More often than not he's angry at Tony over something. What could it be this time?

Howard doesn't even bothering waving goodbye before climbing into the truck in front of Tony. As usual, Tony is going to be riding in a different car to give Howard some space to negotiate. He prefers it this way but also knows he would learn more riding with Howard.

Instead Tony jumps into the next truck along with Rhodey sliding in after him. Despite his age, he's already moving up the ranks so no one questions him riding in one of the upper trucks with Tony.

Unsurprisingly, Rhodey doesn't say a word once they're in the truck together. Always been a fan of the silent treatment.

“Wow, what's got your knickers in a twist?” Tony mutters. One of his eyebrows is raised cockily.

“Three hours.” Rhodey snaps, no longer able to keep it all in, “You left us standing out there for three hours waiting for you.”

“In all fairness, I only made us ten minutes late this time -” Tony starts cooly.

“This time! This time!” Rhodey interrupts but Tony just keeps talking over him

“ - the other 2 hours and 50 minutes were all Howard so you should take it up with him.” After all of Howard's nagging about making them late Howard had been the real reason they were late. Arsehole.

“Of course I blame him, dudes a douchebag but that's not going to stop me blaming you too. You two are as bad as each other when it comes to punctuality.” Rhodey sighs.

“You wound me.”

The drive seems to last forever. Sweltering heat pushes down on the car. Slowly roasting them alive. A few of the soldiers in the truck wriggle and tug at their uniforms to try and get some colder air on them but it does little good. No one complains about it though. Well trained.

When they they finally arrive it's no better than being inside the car. There's no wind to provide the relief of colder air, just the constant hot pressure of the sun.

For once he doesn't look out of place in his sunglasses. Even Rhodey has his shades on.

All of the weapons and tech they’re demonstrating are already set up on the testing field. Except for the presentation itself, everything has already been done for them. Amongst the lower tier weapons (guns and the like) sits the glistening Jericho missile. Tony's greatest creation. At least to date. It almost looks inconspicuous amongst all the other goodies. Just another missile. Unlike all of Hammer Techs crappy missiles, this one actually does stuff though.

“What are you calling it?” Rhodey asks, pointing at the Jericho.

“The Jericho.”

“What does it do?” He mutters, awestruck.

“You'll have to see.” Tony smirks. It's easier to show than to tell. Words can't do the sheer destructive power any justice.

“It better be good Tones.” Rhodey uses Tony's nickname again.

“Come on Platypus. We should try to get front row seats.”

Obviously there aren't any actual seats on the testing range but Tony leads them to the front of the crowd that has gathered. In front of them Howard and the general are chatting away, discussing the weather or something equally as boring. They're only dragged out of their conversation when a familiar voice beside Tony calls out.

“Howard!” Obadiah exclaims as he pushes through the crowd to get to the front. He's beaming with his arms open wide so everyone can see the sweat patches on his shirt.

“Obie?” Tony frowns. Obadiah never came to these events. Ever. While Tony and Howard went globe trotting Obie would hold down the fort back in America. Even Howard is frowning at the sight of his closest friend amongst the soldier.

“How's my favourite god son doing?” He asks, having only just spotted Tony beside him.

“Alright. What are you doing here?” Unfortunately he never gets a response because Howard has started walking over.

“Obadiah, it's good to see you here.” Howard says calmly. You could be fooled into actually expected to see him here.

“Well I couldn't miss this demonstration.” Obadiah smiles over enthusiastically. Howard frowns before smiling exuberantly once again.

“It's a good thing you're here actually. I’ve got some stuff I really need to talk to you about. It -” But Howard's explanation is cut off by the arrival of the general.

“Howard. It's time for the presentation.” He gestures to the now empty space at the front of the crowd.

“Ah, yes - of course.” Howard nods as the previous conversation slowly slips from his mind.

Obadiah takes his place right next to Tony as Howard saunters over to the front of the crowd. For some reason Obadiah is smiling down at Tony instead of watching Howard.

One of the soldiers moves the Jericho into position. The centerpiece of the demonstration. It needs to be perfectly positioned so everyone can see it before it's actually fired.

Everyone in the crowd falls silent as Howard clears his throat. Hanging off of his every word. Waiting for him to finally begin his presentation.

“We have spent years over at Stark Industries perfecting our weapons. Innovating. Improving. Maximising all capabilities. I like to think we’ve done a damn good job of it.” Howard grins almost cheekily. A few of the other soldiers around them begin to smile and loosen their muscles. Nervousness and tension slowly bleeding out.

“But today we bring you something new. A weapon that you only need to fire once. Just one look at this thing and the enemies will be too terrified to come out. It was designed by my very own son-” Howard points straight at Tony, drawing everyone's eyes onto him, “- Tony. It's top of the line. Better than anything we've ever made before. It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology and perfect our weapons designs.”

He didn't think Howard could surprise him anymore but maybe he was wrong? What's his plant this time? Why is he actually telling people Tony designed the weapon?

Howard's eyes meet Tony's. He smiles subtly. Genuinely. Proudly?

“I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Industries' Freedom Line. For your consideration, the Jericho.”

As soon as the words are out of Howard's mouth the Jericho is fired. No one speaks as it whistles through the air and dives straight at the towering mountain behind them. Everyone watches as it trails through the sky, splitting into hundreds of smaller missiles. Just the way Tony designed it.

For a second nothing happens but then the entire mountain is alight. Explosions shatter across the entire horizon. Completely destroying everything as far as the eye can see. It looks like the sky itself is on fire.

A few seconds later the explosive sound arrives followed by the huge shock wave. It ripples through them all, knocking off hats and sending people off balance. Even Howard shakes as the wave hits him directly on his back.

Tony has to plant his legs firmly to keep himself tethered. Unlike everyone else he managed to keep his footing - already prepared for the tremendous shock wave. At least until Obadiah falls off balance and grabs ahold of Tony to try and regain his balance.

Once the wave has finally died down everyone begins clapping. After the sound of the explosion earlier it sounds distant. From another life. However he smiles and bows anyway. Basking in the glory.

As Howard walks over to the crowd people start to swarm him. Some clap his back while others hassle him for details. Wanting to know everything from the cost to the number they can order right now.

Although a few people congratulate Tony, they steer clear of him for the most part. He's glad to have avoided a crowd. He'd rather not be crushed by a gaggle of people today.

“Well done, this is really going to change the war.” Rhodey claps his shoulder.

“That's the aim.”

“He’s the golden goose of the company.” Obadiah bellows and grabs onto Tony's shoulders. As he laughs he begins steering Tony through the crowd.

Rhodey follows them for a bit before giving up and walking off to find some of his fellow soldiers. He tries his best not too feel too bummed out that Rhodey is leaving him alone with Obadiah - after all he's probably got other friends here he wants to see. His life doesn't revolve around Tony.

“You did great work, I can't wait to see what you come up with next.” Obadiah laughs.

They're still walking towards the trucks. Other people have begun heading there too so they're not alone. In fact the crowd around them keeps getting thicker and thicker as soldiers rush to their trucks. Heading back to the base most likely.

“I live to please.” Tony smiles cooly.

Howard has pushed through the gaggle of people to find Obadiah and Tony. Any trace of a smile he had before is gone. All his attention is solely fixed on Obadiah.

“I need to talk to Obadiah about something sensitive. You need to find another car to ride in.” Nothing had actually changed then. It all was just part of some convoluted plan. It's not like he'd really been expecting to ride with Howard in the first place. At least not until the weapons demonstration.

He nods as he looks around for Rhodey. He's still a couple of meters behind Tony, chatting to a few of the other soldiers civilly. For a moment he considers walking over to join him but then his attention is caught by a couple of younger soldiers walking a few meters ahead of him. They're the youngest Tony has seen today - around eighteen most likely. Probably their first time out here.

Before he can stop himself he's walking over to them. As if he's got a sixth sense, he can feel Rhodey’s eyes following him. Probably assessing how much damage Tony can do. Nevertheless, Tony doesn't let up. He walks straight up to them as they start getting into their truck.

“Mind if I ride with you?” Tony asks.

“Um, of course not.” The soldier nearest to him stammers. He shuffles over to the next seat to allow Tony to join them in the van.

Just as he takes his seat in the van Rhodey stumbles over. With the door closed Tony has to lean out of the window to talk to Rhodey.

“Hey, Tony.” Rhodey leans forward to try and inspect the people in the truck with him. None of them respond, not even with a little wave but he's beginning to think that might be just a soldier thing. The general has them all well trained.

“I'm sorry, this is the fun-vee. The hum-drum-vee is back there.” Tony smirks. As much as he loves Rhodey, sometimes it's nice to mingle. Meet new people you know.

“See you back at base.” He sighs but is smiling. He hits the side of the van as he walks away which spurs it into action. Dust and sand gets flung up as the wheels spin against the loose ground. Struggling for purchase.

Eventually the truck gets moving properly. Dust is still being kicked up which forces Tony to close the truck window. As nice as the cold air is, it's not worth the dust and dirt that's currently spraying through the window.

This truck has nowhere near as good suspension as the last one. Every single bump in the track reverberates through him painfully. His neck aches from the repeated toll of the journey.

Looking out of the window he can see that the ground below them has been worn down into a track but it doesn't seem to be doing anything. There are just as many potholes as there are beyond the track so it seems completely pointless. It's times like these he wishes he were back in America. Or any area of actual modern civilisation to be honest.

In fact the only benefit of the path is that there are no plants or shrubbery covering the area. In all honesty though, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. They're all so small and the gaps between them so large these trucks would have no problem ploughing through them.

No one, not even Tony is speaking inside the truck. For a while he's content just watching out the window in silence but it gets old pretty quickly. There's only so much to see. Tension lays thick between them, no one wants to be the first one to speak.

Tony sighs, _is it always up to him to deal with these situations_?

“I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial.” He slices through the silence but still no one wants to talk. “This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me.” Maybe it's the fact that all of them still have their guns out but they honestly come across that way. They almost seem intimidating. Almost.

Still no one speaks. The boy next to him looks around shiftily - his eyes landing everywhere but the spot Tony is occupying. He bites his lip nervously as if trying to think of something to say. As he makes eye contact with his other friend who's sitting next to the driver he seems to think better of it. Once again he recedes back into himself, leaving the silence untouched.

“What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!” He turns to the weak link of the group, the boy next to him. If anyone is going to cave and talk it'll be him.

“We can talk, sir.” His gaze is now wholly focused on spot in front of him. One hand clenched the gun closer to his chest as he sits stock still.

“Oh, I see. So it's personal?” Tony grumbles. He’d hoped they'd have said no to him if they really disliked him that much.

“No, you intimidate them.” This time the driver is the one to respond. Their voice is high pitched and unmistakably female. This whole time he'd been imagining her as a guy but she was really a woman. Of course he shouldn't be surprised but he is.

Unlike the boy next to Tony she seems almost relaxed. There's no tension or strain in her voice. It's as if he's just a normal guy that she is talking to. At least someone doesn't hate him.

“Good God, you're a woman. I honestly... I couldn't have called that. I mean, I'd apologize,

but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first.” They all look the same really. The unity of an army. Strip away the individuals in order go present a stronger front.

All three of them laugh in response, no longer tiptoeing nervously. In fact the boy beside him is outright grinning instead of biting his cheek. There's bright hopefulness lingering in his eyes. A youthful naivety he's surprised to see out here on the battlefield.

“I'm an airman.” She explains. Like Rhodey then. He wonders how many of them are pilots instead of actual soldiers. Maybe they're all pilots. It could genuinely be the case.

She turns around to look at him giving Tony his first proper look at her. It's easy to see why he assumed she was a male. Although she's a pretty looking woman she's got the slightly stronger features you'd usually associate with men. They work better on her than on most men though.

“You have, actually, excellent bone structure, there. I'm kind of having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?” Once again they all laugh light heartedly. The boy next to the driver even turns around so he can talk to Tony properly.

They quickly try to stifle the laugh but Tony intervenes.

“Come on, it's okay, laugh.” He rather have them laughing than sitting in awkward silence.

“Sir, I have a question to ask.” The boy beside the driver asks. His eyes are lit up curiously as he leans slightly closer to Tony.

“Yes, please.” Tony nods to him.

“Is it true you went 12 for with last year's Maxim cover models?” He grins almost cheekily.

“That is an excellent question. Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict, but fortunately, the Christmas cover was twins.” Tony fires out the answer rapidly. While he's talking he takes off his sunglasses so he can properly look at them all.

As he turns to his side he spots the boy next to him holding his hand up slightly. It's almost cute to see a young soldier in his full uniform holding his hand up as if he was still an eight year old in school.

“Anything else? You're kidding me with the hand up, right?” He can't help himself but poke fun at the kid. Nervously the boy lowers his hand, cradelling it to his chest.

“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?” He asks quietly. He's grinning, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. A far cry from the tense nervousness he'd been a few minutes prior.

“Yes. It's very cool.” Tony says softly. He feels bad for picking on the kid earlier honestly.

It's still strange to have people want to take his photo but he's getting used to it. Media and journalist photos are completely different to fan photos. It's always such a surreal moment and is considerably nicer than the photos that are snapped by paparazzi when you least expect it.

Enthusiastically he dives into his pocket to pull out a camera. It's surprising to see something like that carefully tucked away in the boys pocket but they must have space for all kinds of stuff in those pockets. Plenty of space for a small camera like this one.

He switches it on carefully as they drive over another rocky pitholee and hands it to the boy in the front seat. As carefully as he can in the moving vehicle, he tries to turn around so the camera is properly capturing Tony and the other soldier.

“All right.” He mumbles to himself as he tries to find the camera’s button.

“I don't want to see this on your Facebook or Twitter.” Tony mutters jokingly as he leans towards the other soldier. To fit them both in the frame the soldier shuffles closer. Before they get too close together he stops scooting closer to Tony and gets into position. Both of them smile for the camera, the other boy throwing up a peace sign as he grins giddily.

“Please, no gang signs.” Tony jokes but the other soldier takes it a bit too seriously. With a slight blush he quickly shoves his hand down to his side, “No, throw it up. I'm kidding.” The other boy wastes no time raising his peace sign once more. Striking a pose.

“Yeah, peace. I love peace. I'd be out of a job with peace.” He’s not even lying. Although Stark Industries is a weapons company peace is still the goal. They’re only making these weapons in the first place to achieve peace. Without Stark weapons there would still be fighting but a lot more good people would die. Maybe if there are enough good weapons peace will finally be reached.

Seconds pass awkwardly with them both leaning towards each other to fit in the camera frame. Due to the truck moving the soldiers peace sign keeps poking his face painfully making things even more uncomfortable.

For some reason the soldier in the front seat is unable to figure out how the buttons work on the camera. Nothing he tries seems to work. How he can be struggling so much with such a simple camera, Tony doesn’t know. Eventually the other soldier has to intervene.

“Come on. Hurry up. Just click it. Don't change any settings.” He mutters, lowering his peace sign slightly. He tries to move forward to point out the button but never makes it.

A blinding light fills the truck before a huge explosion shakes the ground. Instinctively Tony’s hands grip onto the car seat. His fingers curl around the tough metal surface searching for some purchase. Some way to keep himself in place. To ground himself in reality.

The thundering sound of the explosion resonates. It rattles through his chest painfully. There’s no sound except the ringing of the explosion for what feels like minutes but in reality is just seconds.

The truck comes to an abrupt stop just as his sense of hearing begins to return. Without the shaking of the truck Tony feels safe enough to remove his hands from the edge of the seat. Instead they move to try and cover his ears from any further damage.

Slowly the sound around him becomes clearer. Although the sound of the explosion has stopped, the world is still exploding with sound. Everyone inside and outside the truck is yelling. There are no audible words but everyone is shouting anyway. Only the sound of gunshots interrupts to constant stream of screeching.

It seems the truck in front of them has exploded. A chunk of the metal crashes onto the bonnet of their car with a smash. Luckily the front window withstands the impact. Protecting them from the raining debris of the explosion.

Ahead of them the fiery wreck is still crackling. Red hot flames jump across the skeleton of the truck. Tearing apart anything that might be living below the surface. If anyone survived the initial explosion then they’re dead now. _No one_ is climbing out of that wreck. At least not alive.

Rhodey?

Howard?

Obie?

None of them were in the truck ahead...right?

_Right?_

They have to be safe. _Have to_.

“What's going on?” Tony joins in the chorus of yelling. _If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em_. Although it's not helping the situation it certainly makes him feel better. Answers are what’s needed right now. Now he might as well be stumbling in the dark.

“Contact left!” One of the soldiers yells, completely ignoring Tony. He can’t tell which one is talking but he doubts he needs to. At this point it makes no difference.

“What have we got?” Another voice chimes in but it might as well be a world away. Chaos is rising.

The driver - the air pilot - begins tugging at the door handles. Her hand fumbles with the mechanism a couple of times. She hisses in frustration as she throws herself against the door in an attempt to smash it open. As it swings open, she falls forwards out of the truck. Her gun is in hand, ready to take down the enemy beyond. But it’s too late. Never fires a single bullet.

Within two seconds she’s already fallen. Her feet never even touched the ground.

“Jimmy, stay with Stark!” The other soldier in the front seat shouts to the boy next to Tony. Jimmy. A name to put to the face.

Jimmy nods repeatedly at the order. His hands clutch at his gun. Holding it close and steady. No matter how hard he tries he can’t hide the shaking of his hands. No amount of training prepares you.

With his gun locked and loaded, the soldier in the front opens the door. Tony doesn’t even know his name. He does better than the girl. His feet touch the ground. He even manages to get to the bonnet of the truck. Using the bonnet as a shield he hides behind it. The gun rests on the hood as he takes aim and begins firing.

“Stay down!” Jimmy yells from beside Tony. His hand grabs onto Tony’s shoulder and pushes him onto the floor of the truck. His knees smack against the bottom of the truck unceremoniously. If he wasn’t in this situation he might swear as a result of the pain but he doesn’t. Can’t manage a word.

“Yeah.” He manages to squeak out after a second but it gets lost in the gun fire.

The other soldiers bullets run out after a few seconds plunging the area into silence for a second or so. Then it's back in full force but from the opposition. Tony can’t help but flinch as bullets tear through the truck. The glass which had held up so well before is thorn through like paper.

Tony’s hands come up to his head to try and form a protective barrier. Too much. It’s everywhere. No matter where he turns. _Make it stop._

When he finally braves a look he’s greeted with crimson. It coats the front windscreen. Splattered through the newly opened bullet holes in the material. There’s no more gunshots coming from the soldier who was crouched by the bonnet. Just another dead body.

Just him and Jimmy left now.

Tony turns to the other boy, searching for any shred of hope. Sweat glistens on his brow, dribbling down the side of his face. His breathing is unsteady and shallow - not exactly reassuring. No one is smiling now.

“Son of a bitch!” He hisses as he cocks his gun.

No no no no no. Not him too.

Tony can feel his breathing getting faster. His heart pounds in his ears at an alarming rate. Adrenaline courses through his veins.

“Wait, wait, wait! Give me a gun!” Tony tries to grab onto Jimmy but the other boy pushes him off as he opens the door.

“Stay here!” He yells and slams the door.

Then another spray of bullets slams through the door.

Tony does his best to curl up. Makes himself as small a target as possible. None of the bullets tears into him so it must work.

Jimmy isn’t so lucky.

Once again his ears are ringing. It could be from the bullets tearing past him or the explosions blasting from every direction, he can’t tell anymore. Nothing makes any sense anymore.

Everywhere he turns soldiers are falling. Inside their trucks. Outside their trucks it makes no difference. Whoever the enemy is, they’re mowing everyone down. Everyone.

Fuck he hopes Rhodey is alright.

Every second spent in the truck feels like death. He’s just waiting. Like a pig to the slaughter. There’s no guns left in here. Not even a butter knife. If anyone was to come up to the truck now he’d be screwed. He needs something to defend himself. A gun. Anything.

Against his better judgement he throws himself through the door. As soon as he gets through the door an explosion goes off to one side. The blast unbalances him, sending him further into the fire. His plan had been to grab a gun and get out but he’s slowly wandering further and further from the truck.

Fire crackles next to him. Cutting off his possible escape routes. More explosions are triggered all around him. Blasting him further and further away. He’s so lost in the chaos and fire that even without the explosions knocking him off course he’d never know where to go.

Instead he plows on ahead and ducks for cover behind a huge rock. The stone digs uncomfortably into his back but it's oddly reassuring. Never before has a solid structure behind his back felt so safe. This way he only needs to watch his front for attackers. Without a weapon he has no idea what he would do if he was attacked but it feels better than being out in the open.

One hand reaches into his pocket to pull out it phone. Not really sure what else to do he grabs the phone and quickly types in Rhodey’s number. Chances are he’s already dead but if he isn’t he’ll be here in a heartbeat.

But he never presses the call button.

Before he has the chance to a bomb lands right next to him. It bleeps ominously. Counting down to his death. Painted right on the side of the bomb in bright white letters are the words: Stark Industries. There for all to see.

_A bomb with my name on it_...he thinks to himself.

With one hand still clutching the phone he tries to push himself up off the ground. If he can just get up then maybe he can get away. Maybe he can survive. Dirt slides away under his feet as he scrambles for some purchase. Trying to launch himself away.

In the end he is launched away but not in the good way. The bomb explodes in a bright light. Hot, heavy air smashes into his chest and throws him right onto the hard ground. If his ears weren’t ringing before, they certainly are now.

His head makes contact first. It smashes against the floor with a thwack. Every inch of his neck aches and burns with pain but he holds on.

_Could’ve been worse_ …he thinks. Someone must be listening because right at that very moment he realises something is wrong. That aching pain isn’t from his spine. At least not all of it. Slowly the pain is radiating out from his chest. Seeping through him like poison. Everything slowly becomes colder and darker as he frantically tears at his shirt. It comes away easily to reveal his bullet proof vest hiding underneath. It should’ve taken the impact of the debris from the bomb but the red seeping through the material says otherwise.

_Oh fuck._

Then it all goes dark.

When the light finally starts to return he’s somewhere new. People are still yelling but it’s much closer now. Their voices are directly in front of him. Crowding over him.

None of the faces are in focus or properly visible but he can feel them pressing in on him. His heartbeat speeds up even faster. Thundering in his chest. He wants to leave. To move. To have all this faces go away but they won’t.

He thinks one of them might be holding a scalpel in one hand but he can’t be sure. Blinding lights are trailed on him which might be partially the cause of his terrible vision.

As the people get closer the pain gets stronger. How had he slept with this kind of pain? It’s searing right through him. All the way down to his very core. Every nerve is alive and burning. Tearing apart every other feeling and drowning him. Trying to drag him back under.

He begs it to drag him into unconsciousness again but no matter how much his body wants to give up, the pain just drags him straight back. Darkness drifts over his vision but the pain doesn’t fade. Instead of time speeding up, it slows down. Dragging his pain out for even longer.

He screams as loud as he can and tries to move away but he’s been restrained or paralyzed somehow. The only part of him that he seems to be able to move is his head. No matter how much he thrashes nothing else moves.

When his vision finally resurfaces there’s a hand in his chest. He can feel it there. Tearing his chest open. Reaching inside. Once again he can’t move. All he can do is watch as they cut him even further open. Every inch of his body strains to tear the man’s hand out of his chest but it’s to no avail.

Finally he fades out of consciousness only to be dragged right back again. The mans hand is gone leaving just the empty hole behind. He can see the gaping space where his skin and bones should be. Instead there’s just nothingness.

His voice is hoarse from screaming but it’s all he knows. It’s as of every moment before this long, endless moment of searing pain doesn’t exist. This is all he knows. All he remembers.

Slowly the man’s hand comes back. Blood drips off of his clear gloves and back onto Tony. The drops splatter onto his cheek stickly.

Carefully the man inserts a thick metal circle into the hole. It slides in painfully, shredding what little skin and flesh is left in that area. There’s nothing delicate or gentle about it. Even the design is bulky.

It’s not until the device has been fully inserted that they finally place a chloroform cloth over his mouth. Finally allowing him to fall unconscious once again.


End file.
